ANDRE 


\ 


MARIA 

THOMPSON 

DAVIESS 


Library  of  MRS.  D.  F.  RANDOLPH, 
596  Howard  Place,  Pasadena,  Cal. 


No 

S3- 


ANDREW  THE  GLAD 


i 


'  C-<. — . 


The  major  raised  Caroline's  hand  to  his  lips. 


Andrew  the  Glad 


MARIA  THOMPSON  DAVIESS 


AUTHOR  OF 

Miss  Selina  Lue,  Rose  of  Old  Harpeth 
The  Melting  of  Molly,  etc. 


R.  M.  CROSBY 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1913 
THK  BOBBS-MERKIIX  COMPANY 


PRESS     OF 

BRAUNWORTH    I    CO. 

BOOKBINDERS    AND    PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,    N.    V. 


TO 
LIBBIE  LUTTRELL  MORROW 


2229184 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGK 

I    THE  HEART  TRAP 1 

II    THE  RITUAL 35 

III  Two  LITTLE  CRIMES 62 

IV  ACCORDING  TO  SOLOMON        ....  103 
V  DAVID'S  ROSE  AND  SOME  THORNS          .        .  131 

VI  THE  BRIDGE  OP  DREAMS        ....  167 

VII  STRANGE  WILD  THINGS          ....  196 

VIII  THE  SPELL  AND  ITS  WEAVING       .        .        .  224 

IX  PURSUING  THE  POSSUM          ....  259 

X  LOVE'S  HOME  AND  ANDREW  SEVIER      .        .  291 

XI  ACROSS  THE  MANY  WATERS   ....  329 


ANDREW  THE  GLAD 


ANDREW  THE  GLAD 
CHAPTER  I 

THE  HEART  TRAP 

"THERE  are  some  women  who  will  brew 
mystery  from  the  decoction  of  even  a  very 
simple  life.  Matilda  is  one  of  them,"  re- 
marked the  major  to  himself  as  he  filled 
his  pipe  and  settled  himself  before  his 
high-piled,  violet-flamed  logs.  "It  was 
waxing  strong  in  her  this  morning  and 
an  excitement  will  arrive  shortly.  Now  I 
wonder — " 

"Howdy,  Major,"  came  in  a  mockingly 
lugubrious  voice  from  the  hall,  and  David 
Kildare  blew  into  the  room.  He  looked 
disappointedly  around,  dropped  into  a 
chair  and  lowered  his  voice  another  note. 
1 


2        ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"Seen  Phoebe?"  he  demanded. 

"No,  haven't  you?"  answered  the  major 
as  he  lighted  his  pipe  and  regarded  the 
man  opposite  him  with  a  large  smile  of 
welcome. 

"Not  for  three  days,  hand-running. 
She's  been  over  to  see  Andy  with  Mrs. 
Matilda  twice,  and  I've  missed  her  both 
times.  Now,  how's  that  for  luck?" 

"Well,"  said  the  major  reflectively,  "in 
the  terms  of  modern  parlance,  you  cer- 
tainly are  up  against  it.  And  did  it  ever 
occur  to  you  that  a  man  with  three  ribs 
broken  and  a  dislocated  collar-bone,  who 
has  written  a  play  and  a  sprinkle  of  poems, 
is  likely  to  interest  Phoebe  Donelson  enor- 
mously? There  is  nothing  like  poetry  to 
implant  a  divine  passion,  and  Andrew  is 
undoubtedly  of  poetic  stamp." 

"Oh,  poetry — hang!  It's  more  Andy's 
three  ribs  than  anything  else.  He  just 
looks  pale  and  smiles  at  all  of  'em.  He  al- 


THE    HEART    TRAP  3 

ways  did  have  yellow  dog  eyes,  the  sad 
kind.  I'd  like  to  smash  all  two  dozen  of 
his  ribs,"  and  Kildare  slashed  at  his  own 
sturdy  legs  with  his  crop.  He  had  dropped 
in  with  his  usual  morning's  tale  of  woe  to 
confide  to  Major  Buchanan,  and  he  had 
found  him,  as  always,  ready  to  hand  out 
an  incendiary  brand  of  sympathy. 

"He  ought  not  to  have  more  than 
twenty-three ;  one  on  the  right  side  should 
be  missing.  Some  woman's  got  it — maybe 
Phoebe,"  said  the  major  with  deadly  in- 
tent. 

"Nothing  of  the  kind.  I'm  shy  a  rib 
myself  and  Phoebe  is  it.  Don't  I  get  a 
pain  in  my  side  every  time  I  see  her?  It's 
the  real  psychic  thing,  only  she  doesn't 
seem  to  get  hold  of  her  end  of  the  wire 
like  she  might." 

"Don't  trust  her,  David,  don't  trust 
her!  You  see  his  being  injured  in  Panama, 
building  bridges  for  his  country,  while  you 


4         ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

sat  here  idly  reading  the  newspapers  about 
it,  has  had  its  appeal.  I  know  it's  danger- 
ous, but  you  ought  to  want  Phoebe  to 
soothe  his  fevered  brow.  Nothing  is  too 
good  for  a  hero  this  side  of  Mason  and 
Dixon's,  my  son."  The  major  eyed  his 
victim  with  calculating  coolness,  gaging 
just  how  much  more  of  the  baiting  he 
would  stand.  He  was  disappointed  to  see 
that  the  train  of  explosives  he  had  laid 
failed  to  take  fire. 

"Well,  he's  being  handed  out  a  choice 
bunch  of  Mason-Dixon  attentions.  They 
are  giving  him  the  cheer-up  all  day  long. 
When  I  left,  Mrs.  Shelby  was  up  there 
talking  to  him,  and  Mrs.  Cherry  Lawrence 
and  Tom  had  just  come  in.  Mrs.  Cherry 
had  brought  him  several  fresh  eggs.  She 
had  got  them  from  Phoebe !  I  sent  them  to 
her  from  the  farm  this  morning.  Rode 
out  and  coaxed  the  hens  for  them  myself. 
Now,  isn't  a  brainstorm  up  to  me?" 


THE    HEART    TRAP  5 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  ma- 
jor in  a  judicial  tone  of  voice.  "You 
wouldn't  have  them  neglect  him,  would 
you?" 

"Well,  what  about  me?"  demanded 
David  dolefully.  "I  haven't  any  green 
eyes,  'cause  I'm  trusting  Andy,  not 
Phoebe;  but  neglect  is  just  withering  my 
leaves.  I  haven't  seen  her  alone  for  two 
weeks.  She  is  always  over  there  with  Mrs. 
Matilda  and  the  rest  'soothing  the  fevered 
brow.'  Say,  Major,  give  Mrs.  Matilda  the 
hint.  The  chump  isn't  really  sick  any 
more.  Hint  that  a  little  less — " 

"David,  sir,"  interrupted  the  major,  "it 
takes  more  than  a  hint  to  stop  a  woman 
when  she  takes  a  notion  to  nurse  an  at- 
tractive man,  a  sick  lion  one  at  that.  And 
depend  upon  it,  it  is  the  poetry  that  makes 
them  hover  him,  not  the  ribs." 

"Well,  you  just  stop  her  and  that'll 
stop  them,"  said  David  wrathfully. 


6        ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"David  Kildare,"  answered  the  major 
dryly,  "I've  been  married  to  her  nearly 
forty  years  and  I've  never  stopped  her 
doing  anything  yet.  Stopping  a  wife  is 
one  of  the  bride -notions  a  man  had  better 
give  up  early  in  the  matrimonial  state — if 
he  expects  to  hold  the  bride.  And  bride- 
holding  ought  to  be  the  life- job  of  a  man 
who  is  rash  enough  to  undertake  one." 

"Do  you  think  Phoebe  and  bride  will 
ever  rhyme  together,  Major?"  asked  Da- 
vid in  a  tone  of  deepest  depression.  "I 
can't  seem  to  hear  them  ever  jingle." 

"Yes,  Dave,  the  Almighty  will  meter 
it  out  to  her  some  day,  and  I  hope  He  will 
help  you  when  He  does.  I  can't  manage 
my  wife.  She's  a  modern  woman.  ISTow, 
what  are  we  going  to  do  about  them?"  and 
the  major  smiled  quizzically  at  the  per- 
turbed young  man  standing  on  the  rug  in 
front  of  the  fire. 

"Well,"  answered  Kildare  with  a  spark 


THE    HEART    TRAP  7 

in  his  eyes,  as  he  flecked  a  bit  of  mud 
from  his  boots  which  were  splashed  from 
his  morning  ride,  "when  I  get  Phoebe 
Donelson,  I'm  going  to  whip  her!"  And 
very  broad  and  tall  and  strong  was  young 
David  but  not  in  the  least  formidable  as 
to  expression. 

"Dave,  my  boy,"  answered  the  major 
in  a  tone  of  the  deepest  respect,  "I  hope 
you  will  do  it,  if  you  get  the  chance;  but 
you  won't!  Thirty-eight  years  ago  last 
summer  I  felt  the  same  way,  but  I've  had 
a  long  time  to  make  up  my  mind  to  it ;  and 
I  haven't  done  it  yet." 

"Anyway,"  rejoined  his  victim,  "there's 
just  this  to  it;  she  has  got  to  accept  me 
kindly,  affectionately  and  in  a  ladylike 
manner  or  I'm  going  to  be  the  villain  and 
make  some  sort  of  a  rough  house  to 
frighten  her  into  it." 

"David,"  said  the  major  with  emphasis, 
"don't  count  on  frightening  a  woman  into 


8        ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

a  compliance  in  an  affair  of  the  affections. 
Don't  you  know  they  will  risk  having  their 
hearts  suspended  on  a  hair-line  between 
heaven  and  hell  and  enjoy  it?  Now,  my 
wife—" 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Matilda  never  could  have 
been  like  that,"  interrupted  David  miser- 
ably. 

"Boy,"  answered  the  major  solemnly, 
"if  I  were  to  give  you  a  succinct  account 
of  the  writhings  of  my  soul  one  summer 
over  a  California  man,  the  agony  you  are 
enduring  would  seem  the  extremity  of  in- 
significance." 

"Heavenly  hope,  Major,  did  you  have 
to  go  up  against  the  other  man  game,  too  ? 
I  seem  to  have  been  standing  by  with  a 
basket  picking  up  chips  of  Phoebe's  lovers 
for  a  long  lifetime;  Tom,  Hob,  Payt, 
widowers  and  flocks  of  new  fledges.  But  I 
had  an  idea  that  you  must  have  been  a 
first-and-only  with  Mrs.  Matilda." 


THE    HEART    TRAP  9 

"Well,  it  sometimes  happens,  David, 
that  the  individuality  of  all  of  a  woman's 
first  loves  get  so  merged  into  that  of  the 
last  that  it  would  be  difficult  for  her  to 
differentiate  them  herself;  and  it  is  best 
to  keep  her  happily  employed  so  she 
doesn't  try." 

"Well,  all  I  can  say  for  you,  Major," 
interrupted  Kildare  with  a  laugh,  "is  that 
your  forty  years'  work  shows  some.  Your 
Mrs.  Buchanan  is  what  I  call  a  finished 
product  of  a  wife.  I'll  never  do  it  in  the 
world.  I  can  get  up  and  talk  a  jury  into 
seeing  things  my  way,  but  I  get  cross- 
brained  when  I  go  to  put  things  to  Phoebe. 
That  reminds  me,  that  case  on  old  Jim 
Cross  for  getting  tangled  up  with  some 
fussy  hens  in  Latimer's  hen-house  week 
before  last  is  called  for  to-day  at  twelve 
sharp.  I'm  due  to  put  the  old  body 
through  and  pay  the  fine  and  costs ;  only 
the  third  time  this  year.  I'm  thinking  of 


10      ANDREW   THE    GLAD 

buying  him  a  hen  farm  to  save  myself 
trouble.  Good-by,  sir!" 

"David,  David,"  laughed  the  major, 
"beware  of  your  growing  responsibilities! 
Cap  Hobson  reported  that  sensation  of 
yours  before  the  grand  jury  over  that  ne- 
gro and  policeman  trouble.  The  darkies 
will  put  up  your  portrait  beside  that  of 
Father  Abe  on  Emancipation  Day  and 
you  will  be  in  danger  of  passing  down  to 
posterity  by  the  public-spirit-fame  chute. 
Your  record  will  be  in  the  annals  of  the 
city  if  you  don't  mind!" 

"Not  much  danger,  Major,"  answered 
David  with  a  smile.  "I'm  just  a  glad  man 
with  not  balance  enough  to  run  the  rail  of 
any  kind  of  heavy  track  affairs." 

"David,"  said  the  major  with  a  sudden 
sadness  coming  into  his  voice  and  eyes, 
"one  of  the  greatest  men  I  ever  knew  we 
called  the  glad  man — the  boy's  father, 
Andrew  Sevier.  We  called  him  Andrew, 


THE   HEART   TRAP         11 

the  Glad.  Something  has  brought  it  all 
back  to  me  to-day  and  with  your  laugh 
you  reminded  me  of  him.  The  tragedy  of 
it  all!" 

"I've  always  known  what  a  sorrow  it  was 
to  you,  Major,  and  it  is  the  bitterness  that 
is  eating  the  heart  out  of  Andy.  What 
was  it  all  about  exactly,  sir?  I  have  always 
wanted  to  ask  you."  David  looked  into 
the  major's  stern  old  eyes  with  such  a 
depth  of  sympathy  in  his  young  ones  that 
a  barrier  suddenly  melted  and  with  the 
tone  of  bestowing  an  honor  the  old  fire- 
eater  told  the  tale  of  the  sorrow  of  his 
youth. 

"Gaming  was  in  his  blood,  David,  and 
we  all  knew  it  and  protected  him  from 
high  play  always.  We  were  impoverished 
gentlemen,  who  were  building  fences  and 
restoring  war-devastated  lands,  and  we 
played  in  our  shabby  club  with  a  minimum 
stake  and  a  maximum  zest  for  the  sport. 


But  that  night  we  had  no  control  over 
him.  He  had  been  playing  in  secret  with 
Peters  Brown  for  weeks  and  had  lost 
heavily.  When  we  had  closed  up  the  game, 
he  called  for  the  dice  and  challenged 
Brown  to  square  their  account.  They 
threw  again  and  again  with  luck  on  the 
same  grim  side.  I  saw  him  stake  first  his 
horses,  then  his  bank  account,  and  lose. 

"Hayes  Donelson  and  I  started  to  re- 
monstrate but  he  silenced  us  with  a  look. 
Then  he  drew  a  hurried  transference  of 
his  Upper  Cumberland  property  and  put 
it  on  the  table.  They  threw  again  and  he 
lost!  :Then  he  smiled  and  with  a  steady 
hand  wrote  a  conveyance  of  his  home  and 
plantation,  the  last  things  he  had,  as  we 
knew,  and  laid  that  on  the  table." 

"No,  Major,"  exclaimed  David  with 
positive  horror  in  his  voice. 

"Yes,  it  was  madness,  boy,"  answered 
the  major.  "Brown  turned  his  ivories  and 


THE    HEART    TRAP         13 

we  all  held  our  breath  as  we  read  his  four- 
three.  A  mad  joy  flamed  in  Andrew's 
face  and  he  turned  his  cup  with  a  steady 
wrist — and  rolled  threes.  We  none  of  us 
looked  at  Brown,  a  man  who  had  led  an- 
other man  in  whose  veins  ran  a  madness, 
where  in  his  ran  ice,  on  to  his  ruin.  We 
followed  Andrew  to  the  street  to  see  him 
ride  away  in  a  gray  drizzle  to  a  gambled 
home — and  a  wife  and  son. 

"That  morning  deeds  were  drawn, 
signed,  witnessed  and  delivered  to  Brown 
in  his  office.  Then — then" — the  major's 
thin,  powerful  old  hands  grasped  the  arm 
of  his  chair — "we  found  him  in  the  twi- 
light under  the  clump  of  cedars  that 
crowned  the  hill  which  overlooked  Deep- 
mead  Farm — broad  acres  of  land  that  the 
Seviers  had  had  granted  them  from  Vir- 
ginia— dead,  his  pistol  under  his  shoulder 
and  a  smile  on  his  face.  Just  so  he  had 
looked  as  he  rode  at  the  head  of  our  crack 


14      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

gray  regiment  in  that  hell-reeking  charge 
at  Perryville,  and  it  was  such  a  smile  we 
had  followed  into  the  trenches  at  Frank- 
lin. Stalwart,  dashing,  joyous  Andrew, 
how  we  had  all  loved  him,  our  man-of- 
smiles!" 

"Can  anything  ever  make  it  up  to  you, 
Major?"  asked  David  softly.  As  he  spoke 
he  refilled  the  major's  pipe  and  handed  it 
to  him,  not  appearing  to  notice  how  the 
lean  old  hand  shook. 

"You  do,  sir,"  answered  the  major  with 
a  spark  coming  back  into  his  eyes,  "you 
and  your  gladness  and  the  boy  and  his — 
sadness — and  Phoebe  most  of  all.  But 
don't  let  me  keep  you  from  your  hen-roost 
defense — I  agree  with  you  that  a  hen 
farm  will  be  the  cheapest  course  for  you 
to  take  with  old  Cross.  Give  him  my  re- 
spects, and  good-by  to  you."  The  major's 
dismissal  was  gallant,  and  David  went  his 
way  with  sympathy  and  admiration  in  his 


THE    HEART    TRAP         15 

gay  heart  for  the  old  fire-eater  whose 
ashes  had  been  so  stirred. 

The  major  resumed  his  contemplation 
of  the  fire.  Hearty  burning  logs  make 
good  companions  for  a  philosopher  like 
the  major,  and  such  times  when  his  depths 
were  troubled  he  was  wont  to  trust  to  them 
for  companionship. 

But  into  any  mood  of  absorption,  no 
matter  how  deep,  the  major  was  always 
ready  to  welcome  Mrs.  Matilda,  and  his 
expectations  on  the  subject  of  her  adven- 
tures had  been  fully  realized.  As  usual 
she  had  begun  her  tale  in  the  exact  center 
of  the  adventure  with  full  liberty  left  her- 
self to  work  back  to  the  beginning  or  for- 
ward to  the  close. 

"And  the  mystery  of  it  all,  Matilda,  is 
the  mystery  of  love — warm,  contradictory, 
cruel,  human  love  that  the  Almighty  puts 
in  the  heart  of  a  man  to  draw  the  unrea- 
soning heart  of  a  woman;  sometimes  to 


16      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

bruise  and  crush  it,  seldom  to  kill  it  out- 
right. Mary  Caroline  only  followed  her 
call,"  answered  the  major,  responding  to 
her  random  lead  patiently. 

"I  know,  Major;  yes,  I  know,"  an- 
swered his  wife  as  she  laid  her  hand  on  the 
arm  of  his  chair.  "Mary  Caroline  strug- 
gled against  it  but  it  was  stronger  than 
she  was.  It  wasn't  the  loving  and  marry- 
ing a  man  who  had  been  on  the  other  side 
— so  many  girls  did  marry  Union  officers 
as  soon  as  they  could  come  back  down  to 
get  them — but  the  kind  of  enemy  he  was!" 

"Yes,"  said  the  major  thoughtfully,  "it 
would  take  a  wider  garment  of  love  to 
cover  a  man  with  a  carpetbag  in  his  hand 
than  a  soldier  in  a  Yankee  uniform.  A 
conqueror  who  looked  around  as  he  was 
fighting  and  then  came  back  to  trade  on 
the  necessities  of  the  conquered  cuts  but  a 
sorry  figure,  Matilda,  but  a  sorry  figure!" 

"And  Mary  Caroline  felt  it  too,  Major 


THE   HEART    TRAP         17 

— but  she  couldn't  help  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Buchanan  with  a  catch  in  her  voice.  "The 
night  before  she  ran  away  to  marry  him 
she  spent  with  me,  for  you  were  away 
across  the  river,  and  all  night  we  talked. 
She  told  me — not  that  she  was  going — - 
but  how  she  cared.  She  said  it  bitterly 
over  and  over,  'Peters  Brown,  the  carpet- 
bagger— and  I  love  him!'  I  tried  to  com- 
fort her  as  best  I  could  but  it  was  useless. 
He  was  a  thief  to  steal  her — just  a  child!" 
There  was  a  bitterness  and  contempt  in 
Mrs.  Matilda's  usually  tender  voice.  She 
sat  up  very  straight  and  there  was  a  spar- 
kle in  her  bright  eyes. 

"And  the  girl,"  continued  the  major 
thoughtfully,  "was  born  as  her  mother 
died.  He'd  never  let  the  mother  come  back 
and  he  never  brought  the  child.  Now  he's 
dead.  I  wonder — I  wonder.  We've  got  a 
claim  on  that  girl,  Matilda.  We — " 

"And,  dear,  that  is  just  what  I  came 


18      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

back  in  such  a  hurry  to  tell  you  about — I 
felt  it  so — I  haven't  been  able  to  say  it 
right  away.  I  began  by  talking  about 
Mary  Caroline  and — I — I — " 

"Why,  Matilda!"  said  the  major  in 
vague  alarm  at  the  tremble  in  his  wife's 
voice.  He  laid  his  hand  over  hers  on  the 
arm  of  his  chair  with  a  warm  clasp. 

"It's  just  this,  Major.  You  know  how 
happy  I  have  been,  we  all  have  been,  over 
the  wonderful  statue  that  has  been  given 
in  memory  of  the  women  of  the  Confed- 
eracy who  stayed  at  home  and  fed  the 
children  and  slaves  while  the  men  fought. 
As  you  advised  them,  they  have  decided 
to  put  it  in  the  park  just  to  the  left  of  the 
Temple  of  Arts,  on  the  very  spot  where 
General  Darrah  had  his  last  gun  fired  and 
spiked  just  before  he  fell  and  just  as  the 
surrender  came.  It's  strange,  isn't  it,  that 
nobody  knows  who's  giving  it?  Perhaps 
it  was  because  you  and  David  and  I  were 


THE   HEART   TRAP         19 

talking  last  night  about  what  he  should 
say  about  General  Darrah  when  he  made 
the  presentation  of  the  sketches  of  the 
statue  out  at  the  opening  of  the  art  ex- 
hibition in  the  Temple  of  Arts  to-night, 
that  made  me  dream  about  Mary  Caroline 
all  night.  It  is  all  so  strange."  Again 
Mrs.  Buchanan  paused  with  a  half  sob  in 
her  voice. 

"Why,  what  is  it,  Matilda?"  the  major 
asked  as  he  turned  and  looked  at  her  anx- 
iously. 

"It's  a  wonderful  thing  that  has  hap- 
pened, Major.  Something,  I  don't  know 
what,  just  made  me  go  out  to  the  Temple 
this  morning  to  see  the  sketches  of  the 
statue  which  came  yesterday.  I  felt  I 
couldn't  wait  until  to-night  to  see  them. 
Oh,  they  are  so  lovely!  Just  a  tall  fear- 
less woman  with  a  baby  on  her  breast  and 
a  slave  woman  clinging  to  her  skirts  with 
her  own  child  in  her  arms ! 


20      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"As  I  stood  before  the  case  and  looked 
at  them  the  tragedy  of  all  the  long  fight 
came  back  to  me.  I  caught  my  breath  and 
turned  away — and  there  stood  a  girl!  I 
knew  her  instantly,  for  I  was  looking 
straight  into  Mary  Caroline's  own  purple 
eyes.  Then  I  just  opened  my  arms  and 
held  her  close,  calling  Mary  Caroline's 
name  over  and  over.  There  was  no  one 
else  in  the  great  room  and  it  was  quiet 
and  solemn  and  still.  Then  she  put  her 
hand  against  my  face  and  looked  at  me 
and  said  in  the  loveliest  tenderest  voice : 

"  'It's  my  mother's  Matilda,  isn't  it?  I 
have  the  old  daguerreotype !'  And  I  smiled 
back  and  we  kissed  each  other  and  cried — 

and  then  cried  some  more." 

t 

"I  haven't  a  doubt  of  those  tears,"  an- 
swered the  major  in  a  suspiciously  gruff 
voice.  "But  where's  the  girl?  Why  didn't 
you  bring  her  right  back  with  you?  She  is 
ours,  Matilda,  that  purple-eyed  girl. 


THE    HEART    TRAP         21 

When  is  she  coming?  Call  Tempie  and 
tell  her  to  have  Jane  get  those  two  south- 
wing  rooms  ready  right  away.  I  want 
Jeff  to  fill  up  the  decanters  with  the  fifty- 
six  claret,  too,  and  to  put — " 

"But  wait,  Major,  I  couldn't  get  her  to 
come  home  with  me!  We  went  out  into 
the  sunshine  and  for  a  long  drive  into  the 
country.  We  talked  and  talked.  It  is  the 
saddest  thing  in  the  world,  but  she  is  con- 
vinced that  her  mother's  people  are  not  go- 
ing to  like  her.  She  has  been  taught  that 
we  are  so  prejudiced.  I  think  she  has 
found  out  about  the  carpetbagging.  She 
is  so  sensitive!  She  came  because  she 
couldn't  help  it;  she  wanted  just  to  see  her 
mother's  country.  She's  only  been  here 
two  days.  She  intends  to  steal  away  back 
now,  over  to  Europe,  I  think.  I  tried  to 
make  her  see — " 

"Matilda,"  said  the  major  sternly,  "go 
right  back  and  tell  that  child  to  pack  her 


22      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

dimity  and  come  straight  here  to  me.  Car- 
petbagging,  indeed!  —  Mary  Caroline's 
girl  with  purple  eyesl  Did  old  Brown 
have  any  purple  eyes,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"I  made  her  promise  not  to  go  until  to- 
morrow. I  think  she  would  feel  differ- 
ently if  we  could  get  her  to  stay  a  little 
while.  I  want  her  to  stay.  She  is  so  lonely. 
My  little  boy  loved  Mary  Caroline  and 
grieved  for  her  when  she  went  away.  I 
feel  I  must  have  this  child  to  comfort  for 
a  time  at  least." 

"Of  course  she  must  stay.  Did  she 
promise  she  wouldn't  slip  away  from 
you?" 

"Yes,  but  I'm  uneasy.  I  think  I  will  go 
down  to  her  hotel  right  now.  Do  you  mind 
about  being  alone  for  lunch?  Does  Tern- 
pie  get  your  coffee  right?" 

"She  does  pretty  well  considering  that 
she  hasn't  been  tasting  it  for  thirty  years. 
But  you  go  get  that  child,  Matilda.  Bring 


THE    HEART    TRAP         23 

her  right  back  with  you.  Don't  stop  to 
argue  with  her,  I'll  attend  to  all  that  later; 
just  bring  her  home!" 

And  as  Mrs.  Buchanan  departed  the 
major  rose  and  stood  at  the  window  until 
he  saw  her  get  into  her  carriage  and  be 
driven  out  of  sight.  Looking  down  the 
vista  of  the  long  street,  his  eyes  had  a  far- 
away tender  light,  and  as  he  turned  and 
took  up  his  pipe  from  the  table  his 
thoughts  slipped  back  into  the  province  of 
memory.  He  settled  himself  in  his  chair 
before  his  fire  to  muse  a  bit  between  the 
whiffs  of  his  heart-leaf. 

And  Mary  Caroline  Darrah's  girl  had 
come  home — home  to  her  own,  he  mused. 
There  was  mystery  in  it,  the  mystery  that 
sometimes  brands  the  unborn.  Brown  had 
never  let  Mary  Caroline  come  back  and 
the  few  letters  she  had  written  had  told 
them  little  of  the  life  she  led.  The  con- 
straint had  wrung  his  wife's  yearning 


24      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

heart.  Only  a  letter  had  come  when  some- 
how the  news  had  reached  her  of  the  death 
of  Matilda's  boy,  and  it  had  been  wild 
and  sweet  and  athrob  with  her  love  of 
them.  And  in  its  pages  her  own  hopes 
for  the  spring  were  confessed  in  a  pas- 
sion of  desire  to  give  and  claim  sympathy. 
Her  baby  had  been  born  and  she  was  dead 
and  buried  before  they  had  heard  of  it; 
twenty- three  years  ago!  And  Matilda's 
grief  for  her  own  child  had  been  always 
mingled  with  love  and  longing  for  the 
motherless,  unattainable  young  thing 
across  the  distance.  Brown  had  kept  the 
girl  to  himself  and  had  never  brought  her 
back — because  he  dared  not. 

The  major's  powerful  old  hands  writhed 
around  the  arms  of  his  chair  and  his  eyes 
glowed  into  the  embers  like  live  sparks. 
It  was  years,  nearly  thirty  years  ago— 
but,  God,  how  the  tragedy  of  it  came 
back!  The  hot  blood  beat  into  his  veins 


THE    HEART    TRAP         25 

and  he  could  feel  it  and  see  it  all.  Would 
the  picture  always  burn  in  his  brain? 
Nearly  thirty  years  ago — 

The  logs  crashed  apart  in  the  hearth 
and  with  a  start  the  major  rose  to  his  feet, 
a  tear  dashed  aside  under  his  shaggy  old 
eyebrows.  He  would  go  back  to  his  Im- 
mortals— and  forget.  Perhaps  Phoebe 
would  come  in  for  lunch.  That  would 
make  forgetting  easier. 

Where  had  the  girl  been  for  the  last 
few  days?  He  smiled  as  he  found  him- 
self in  something  of  David's  dismay  at 
not  having  seen  the  busy  young  woman 
for  quite  a  time. 

And  it  was  perhaps  an  hour  later  that, 
as  he  sat  in  the  breakfast  room  partaking 
of  his  lunch  in  solitary  comfort,  lost  to 
the  world,  his  wish  for  her  brought  its 
materialization.  He  had  the  morning's 
paper  propped  up  before  him  and  an  out- 
spread book  rested  by  his  plate,  while  he 


26      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

held  a  large  volume  balanced  on  his  knee, 
which  he  paused  occasionally  to  consult. 

Mrs.  Buchanan  had  telephoned  that  she 
would  be  home  with  her  guest  at  five 
o'clock  and  his  mind  was  filled  with  pleas- 
ant anticipation.  But  there  was  never  a 
time  with  the  major,  no  matter  how  filled 
the  life  was  around  him  with  the  excite- 
ment of  events,  with  the  echo  of  joy  or 
woe,  the  clash  of  social  strife  or  the  tur- 
moil of  vaster  interests,  when  he  failed  to 
be  able  to  plunge  into  his  books  and  lose 
himself  completely. 

He  was  in  the  act  of  consuming  a  rem- 
nant of  a  corn  muffin  and  a  draft  from  his 
paper  at  the  same  time,  when  he  heard  a 
merry  voice  in  laughing  greeting  to  Jeff, 
and  the  rose  damask  curtains  that  hung  be- 
tween the  breakfast  room  and  the  hall 
parted,  and  Phoebe  stood  framed  against 
their  heavy  folds.  She  was  the  freshest, 
most  radiant,  tailor-made  vision  imagin- 


THE    HEART    TRAP         27 

able  and  the  major  smiled  a  large  joyful 
smile  at  the  sight  of  her. 

"Come  in,  come  in,  my  dear;  you  are 
just  in  time  for  a  hot  muffin  and  a  fried 
chicken  wing!"  he  exclaimed  as  he  rose 
and  drew  her  to  the  table.  The  old  volume 
crashed  to  the  floor  unheeded. 

"Oh,  no,  Major,  thank  you,  I  couldn't 
think  of  it,"  exclaimed  Phoebe.  "I'm 
lunching  on  a  glass  of  malted  milk  and  a 
raw  egg  these  days.  I  lost  a  pound  and 
three-quarters  last  week  and  I  feel  so  slim 
and  graceful."  As  she  spoke  she  ran  her 
hands  down  the  charming  lines  of  her  tall 
figure  and  turned  slowly  around  for  him 
to  get  the  full  effect  of  her  loss.  She  was 
most  beautifully  set  up  and  the  long  lines 
melted  into  curves  where  gracious  curves 
ought  to  be. 

"Nonsense,  nonsense,  Phoebe  Donel- 
son!"  exclaimed  the  major.  "Every  pound 
is  an  added  charm.  Sit  here  beside  me." 


28      ANDREW   THE   GLAD 

And  he  drew  her  into  a  chair  at  the  corner 
of  the  table. 

In  a  twinkling  of  her  black  eyes  Tern- 
pie  had  served  her  with  the  golden  muffins 
and  crisp  chicken.  With  a  long  sigh  of 
absolute  rapture  Phoebe  resigned  herself 
to  the  inevitable  crash  of  her  resolutions. 

"Ah,  I  never  was  so  miserable  and  so 
happy  in  all  my  life  before,"  she  said. 
"I'm  so  hungry — and  I'm  so  stout — and 
these  muffins  are  wickedly  delicious." 

"Phoebe,"  said  the  major  sternly,  "in- 
stead of  starving  yourself  to  death  you 
need  to  lie  awake  at  night  with  lovers' 
troubles.  Why,  the  summer  I  courted 
Matilda  I  could  have  wrapped  my  belt 
around  me  twice.  I  have  never  been  portly 
since.  It's  loving  you  need,  good,  hard, 
miserable  loving.  Didn't  you  ever  hear  of 
a  'lean  and  hungry  lover'?  Your  conduct 
is  positively — have  another  muffin  and 
this  little  slice  of  upper  joint — I  say  posi- 


THE    HEART    TRAP         29 

lively,  unwomanly  inhuman.  Are  there 
no  depths  of  pity  in  your  breast?  Is  your 
bosom  of  adamant?  When  did  you  see 
David  Kildare?  He  is  in  a  most  pitiable 
condition.  He  left  here  not  an  hour  ago 
and  I  felt—" 

"Don't  worry  over  David,  please,  Ma- 
jor," said  Phoebe  as  she  paused  with  a 
bit  of  buttered  muffin  suspended  on  the 
way  to  her  white  teeth.  "He  is  the  most 
riotously — thank  you,  Tempie,  just  one 
more — happy  individual  I  know.  What 
he  wants  he  has,  and  he  sees  to  it  that  he 
has  what  he  wants — to  which  add  a  most 
glorious  leisure  in  which  to  want  and 
have." 

"Phcebe,  David  Kildare  has  an  aching 
void  in  his  heart  that  weighs  just  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty-six  pounds,  lacking  now 
I  believe  one  and  three-quarters  pounds 
plus  three  muffins  and  a  half  chicken. 
How  can  you  be  so  heartless?"  The  ma- 


30      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

jor  bent  a  benignly  stern  glance  upon  her 
which  she  returned  with  the  utmost  un- 
concern. 

"He  did  not  see  you  all  of  yesterday 
or  the  day  before  and  only  once  on  Mon- 
day, and  then  you — " 

"That  sounds  like  one  of  those  rhyming 
calendars,  my  dear  Major. 

"Monday  I  am  going  far  away, 
Tuesday  I'll  be  busy  all  the  day, 
Wednesday  is  the  day  I  study  French, 
Thursday  is  the— " 

and  Phoebe  hummed  the  little  nonsense 
jingle  to  him  in  a  most  beguiling  manner. 

The  major  laughed  delightedly. 
"Phoebe,  some  day  you  will  be  held  re- 
sponsible for  David  Kildare's — " 

"But,  my  dear  Major,"  interrupted 
Phoebe,  "how  could  I  be  expected  to  work 
all  day  for  raiment  and  food,  with  malted 
milk  and  eggs  at  the  price  they  are  now, 


THE   HEART   TRAP         31 

and  then  be  responsible  for  such  a  per- 
fectly irresponsible  person  as  David  Kil- 
dare?  Why,  just  yesterday,  while  I  was 
writing  up  the  Farrell  debutante  tea  with 
the  devil  waiting  at  my  elbows  for  copy 
and  the  composing  room  in  a  stew,  he 
called  me  twice  over  the  wire.  He  knew 
better,  but  didn't  care." 

"Still,  my  dear,  still  it's  love,"  said  the 
major  as  he  looked  at  her  thoughtfully 
and  dropped  the  banter  that  had  been  in 
his  voice  since  she  had  come  in.  "A  boy's? 
Perhaps,  but  I  think  not.  You'll  see!  It's 
a  call,  a  call  that  must  be  answered  some 
time,  child — and  a  mystery."  For  a  mo- 
ment the  major  sat  and  looked  deep  into 
the  gray  eyes  raised  to  his  in  quick  respon- 
siveness to  the  change  in  his  mood.  "Don't 
trifle  with  love,  girl,  it's  God  Almighty's 
dower  to  a  woman.  It's  hers;  though  she 
pays  a  bitter  price  for  it.  It's  a  wonder 
and  a  worker  of  wonders.  It  has  all  come 


32      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

home  to  me  to-day  and  I  think  you  will 
understand  when  I  tell  you  about — " 

"Major,"  interrupted  Tempie  with  a 
broad  grin  on  her  black  face,  "Mr.  Dave, 
he  done  telephoned  f  er  you  ter  keep  Miss 
Phoebe  till  he  gits  here.  He  says  he'll 
hold  you  and  me  'sponsible,  sir." 

A  quick  flush  rose  to  Phosbe's  cheeks 
and  she  laughed  as  she  collected  her  note- 
book and  pinned  down  her  veil  all  at  the 
same  time  with  a  view  to  instant  flight. 
She  gave  neither  the  major  nor  Tempie 
time  for  remonstrance. 

"Good-by!"  she  called  from  the  hall. 
"I  only  came  in  to  tell  Mrs.  Matilda  that 
I  would  meet  her  at  the  Cantrell  tea  at 
five-fifteen  and  afterward  we  could  make 
that  visit  together.  The  muffins  were  di- 
vine!" 

"Tempie,"  remarked  the  major  as  he 
looked  up  at  her  over  the  devastated  table 
with  an  imperturbable  smile,  "I  have  de- 


33 

cided  positively  that  women  are  just  half- 
breed  angels  with  devil  markings  all  over 
their  dispositions." 

And  having  received  which  admonition 
with  the  deepest  respect,  Tempie  imme- 
diately fell  into  a  perfect  whirlwind  of 
guest  preparations  which  involved  the 
pompous  Jefferson,  her  husband,  and  the 
meek  Jane,  her  daughter.  The  major  is- 
sued her  numberless,  perfectly  impossible 
but  solicitous  orders  and  then  retired  to 
his  library  chair  with  his  mind  at  ease  and 
his  books  at  hand. 

And  it  was  in  the  violet  flamed  dusk 
as  he  sat  with  his  immortal  friends  ranged 
around  that  Mrs.  Matilda  brought  the 
treasure  home  to  him.  She  was  a  very 
lovely  thing,  a  fragrant  flower  of  a 
woman  with  the  tender  shyness  of  a  child 
in  her  manner  as  she  laid  her  hands  in  his 
outheld  to  her  with  his  courtly  old-world 
grace. 


34      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"My  dear,  my  dear,"  he  said  as  he  drew 
her  near  to  him,  "here's  a  welcome  that's 
been  ready  for  you  twenty  years,  you  slip 
of  a  girl  you,  with  your  mother's  eyes. 
Did  you  think  you  could  get  away  from 
Matilda  and  me  when  we've  been  waiting 
for  you  all  this  time?" 

"I  may  have  thought  so,  but  when  I 
saw  her  I  knew  I  couldn't;  didn't  want 
to  even,"  she  answered  him  in  a  low  voice 
that  hinted  of  close-lying  tears. 

"Child,  Matilda  has  had  a  heart  trap 
ready  for  you  ever  since  you  were  born, 
in  case  she  sighted  you  in  the  open.  It's 
baited  with  a  silver  rattle,  doll  babies, 
sugar  plums,  the  ashes  of  twenty  years' 
roses,  the  fragrance  of  every  violet  she 
has  seen,  and  lately  an  aggregation  of 
every  eligible  masculine  heart  in  this  part 
of  the  country  has  been  added.  She 
caught  you  fair — walk  in  and  help  your- 
self;  it's  all  yours!" 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   RITUAL 

"WELL,,  it's  a  sensation  all  right,  Major," 
said  David  as  he  stood  in  front  of  the  ma- 
jor's fire  early  in  the  morning  after  the 
ceremonies  of  the  presentation  of  sketches 
of  the  statue  out  at  the  Temple  of  Arts. 
"Mrs.  Matilda  told  me  the  news  and 
helped  me  sandwich  it  into  my  speech  be- 
tween that  time  and  the  open-up  talk.  Peo- 
ple had  asked  so  often  who  was  giving  the 
statue,  laid  it  on  so  many  different  people, 
and  wondered  over  it  to  such  an  extent  all 
fall  that  they  had  got  tired  and  forgot 
that  they  didn't  know  all  about  it.  When  I 
presented  it  in  the  name  of  Caroline  Dar- 
rah  Brown  in  memory  of  her  mother  and 
35 


36      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

her  grandfather,  General  Darrah,  you 
could  have  heard  a  pin  drop  for  a  few 
seconds,  then  the  applause  was  almost  a 
sob.  It  was  as  dramatic  a  thing  as  has 
been  handed  this  town  in  many  a  day. 
Still  it  was  a  bit  sky-rockety,  don't  you 
think — keeping  it  like  that  and — " 

"David,"  interrupted  the  major  quickly, 
"she  never  intended  to  tell  it.  She  had 
done  the  business  part  of  it  through  her 
solicitors.  She  never  wanted  us  to  know. 
I  persuaded  her  to  let  it  be  presented  in 
her  name,  myself,  just  before  Matilda 
went  out  with  you.  She  shrinks — " 

"Wait  a  minute,  Major,  don't  get  the 
two  sides  of  my  brain  crossed.  You  per- 
suaded her — she  isn't  in  town  is  she? — 
don't  tell  me  she's  here  herself!"  And 
David  ruffled  his  auburn  forelock  with  a 
gesture  of  perplexity. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  major,  "Caroline 
Darrah  Brown  is  here  and  is,  I  hope,  go- 


THE    RITUAL  37 

ing  to  stay  for  a  time  at  least.  I  wanted 
to  tell  you  about  it  yesterday  but  I  hadn't 
seen  her  and  I — " 

"And,  David  dear,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Buchanan  who  had  been  standing  by  with 
shining  eyes  waiting  for  an  opening  to 
break  in  on  Kildare's  astonishment  with 
some  of  the  details  of  her  happiness  over 
her  discovery.  "I  didn't  tell  you  last  night 
for  the  major  didn't  want  me  to,  but  she 
is  so  lovely!  She's  your  inherited  friend, 
for  your  mother  and  hers  were  devoted  to 
each  other.  I  do  want  you  to  love  her  and 
everybody  help  me  to  make  her  feel  at 
home.  Don't  mind  about  her  father  be- 
ing a — you  know  a — a  carpetbagger. 
Three  of  her  Darrah  grandfathers  have 
been  governors  of  this  state;  just  think 
about  them  and  don't  talk  about  her  father 
or  any  carpet — you  know.  Please  be  good 
to  her!" 

"Be   good   to  her,"   exclaimed  David 


38      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

heartily,  "just  watch  me !  I  am  loving  her 
already  for  making  you  so  happy  by  this 
down-from-the-sky  drop,  Mrs.  Matilda. 
And  we'll  all  he  careful  about  the  carpet- 
bags; won't  even  mention  a  rug;  lots  of 
talk  can  be  got  out  of  the  dead  governors 
I'm  thinking.  My  welcome's  getting 
more  enthusiastic  every  moment.  When 
can  I  hand  it  to  her?" 

"She's  resting  now  and  I  think  she 
ought  to  be  quiet  for  to-day,  because  she 
has  been  under  a  strain,"  answered  Mrs. 
Buchanan  as  she  glanced  tenderly  at  a 
closed  door  across  the  hall.  "Oh,  I'm  so 
glad  you  think  you  are  going  to  love  her 
in  spite  of — of — " 

"The  Brown  graft  on  the  Darrah  fam- 
ily tree?"  finished  David  quizzically.  His 
eyes  danced  with  delighted  amusement 
across  her  puffs  at  the  major  as  he  added, 

• 

"Must  have  been  silversmiths  dangling  on 
most  of  his  ancestral  branches,  judging 


THE    RITUAL  39 

from  his  propensity  for  making  dollars; 
a  million  or  two,  stocks,  bonds,  any  kind 
of  flimflam, — eh,  Major?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  major  as  he  blew 
a  ring  of  smoke  into  the  air,  "yes,  just 
about  that;  any  kind  of  flimflam.  And 
I  can  not  conceive  of  Peters  Brown  re- 
joicing at  having  thirty  thousand  of  those 
dollars  put  into  an  In  Memoriam  to  the 
women  who  sniffed  at  him  and  his  carpet- 
bags for  a  good  twenty  years  after  the 
war.  But  the  child  doesn't  take  any  of 
that  in.  Those  were  twenty  rich  years  he 
put  in  in  reconstructing  us,  but  when  he 
took  those  same  heavy  carpetbags  North 
he  took  Mary  Caroline  Darrah,  the  pret- 
tiest woman  in  the  county  with  him.  This 
girl — as  I  have  said  before,  isn't  love  a 
strange  thing?  And  you  say  the  populace 
was  astonished?" 

"Almost  to  the  point  of  paralyzation," 
answered  David  as  he  filled  a  stray  pipe 


with  some  of  the  major's  most  choice  heart- 
leaf  tobacco.  "But  we  managed  to  open 
up  the  picture  show  all  right.  The  entire 
hive  of  busy  art-bees  was  there  in  a  queer 
kind  of  clothes;  but  proud  of  it.  They 
acted  as  if  we  were  dirt  under  their  feet. 
They  smiled  on  the  whole  glad-crowd  of 
us  with  pity  and  let  us  rave  over  the  wrong 
pictures.  The  portrait  of  Mrs.  Peyton 
Kendrick  by  the  great  Susie  Carrie  Snow 
is — er — well,  a  little  more  of  it  shows 
than  seems  natural  about  the  left  off 
arm,  but  it's  a  Susie  Carrie  all  right.  You 
ought  to  have  gone,  Major,  you  would 
take  with  the  art-gang,  but  we  didn't;  we 
were  too  afraid  of  them.  After  we  had 
been  shooed  in  front  of  most  of  the  pic- 
tures and  told  how  to  see  things  in  them 
that  weren't  there  at  all,  Hob  Capers  said : 
"  'Let's  all  go  down  to  the  University 
Club  and  get  drunk  to  forget  'em.'  That's 
why  Mrs.  Matilda  came  home  so  late." 


THE   RITUAL  41 

"And  I  want  Hobson  to  be  nice  to  her 
too,"  continued  Mrs.  Buchanan  as  if  she 
had  not  been  interrupted  in  planning  for 
her  guest.  "And  Tom  and  Peyton  Kend- 
rick.  I'll  ask  them  to  come  and  see  her 
right  away." 

"Don't!  Wait  a  bit,  Mrs.  Matilda,"  ex- 
claimed David.  "Hob  saw  a  mysterious 
girl  in  an  orchid  hat  out  in  the  park  day 
before  yesterday.  He  says  his  heart 
creaked  with  expansion  at  just  the  glimpse 
of  a  chin  he  got  from  under  her  veil.  Sup- 
pose she's  the  girl.  Let  him  have  first 
innings." 

"David,"  remarked  the  major,  "flag  the 
sun,  moon  and  stars  in  their  courses  and 
signal  time  to  reverse  a  day  or  a  year, 
but  don't  try  to  turn  aside  a  maker  of 
matches  from  her  machinations." 

David  laughed  as  the  major's  wife 
shook  her  head  at  him  in  gentle  reproof, 
and  he  asked  interestedly: 


42      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"When  may  we  come  to  call,  madam? 
I  judge  the  lady  is  under  your  roof?'* 

"Soon,  dear.  She  is  very  tired  to-day, 
and  I  feel  sure  you  will — " 

"Miss  Matilda,"  called  Tempie  from 
the  hall,  "Miss  Phoebe  is  holdin'  the  phone 
fer  you.  She's  at  Mis'  Cantrell's  and  she 
wants  ter  speak  with  you  right  away." 

"Wait,  wait,  don't  answer  her  right 
now — ring  her  off,  Tempie!  If  she  has 
trouble  getting  you,  Mrs.  Matilda,  and 
you  keep  her  talking  I  can  catch  her.  Let 
me  get  a  good  start  and  then  answer. 
Good-by!  Keep  talking  to  her!"  And 
with  determination  in  his  eyes  David  took 
his  hurried  departure. 

"Good-by,  good  luck — and  good  hunt- 
ing!" called  the  major  after  him. 

And  with  the  greatest  skil  fulness 
Mrs.  Buchanan  held  Phoebe  in  hand  for 
enough  minutes  to  insure  David's  capture 
before  she  returned  to  the  library. 


THE    RITUAL  43 

"Major,"  she  said  as  she  rubbed  her 
cheek  against  his  velvet  coat  sleeve,  "why 
do  you  suppose  Phoebe  doesn't  love  Da- 
vid? I  can't  understand  it." 

"Matilda,"  answered  the  major  as  he 
blew  a  little  curl  over  one  of  the  soft  puffs 
of  her  white  hair,  "you  were  born  in  a  day 
when  women  were  all  run  into  a  love- 
mold.  They  are  poured  into  other  as- 
sorted fancy  shapes  in  these  times,  but 
heat  from  the  right  source  melts  them  all 
the  same.  We  can  trust  David's  ardor, 
I  think." 

"Yes,  I  believe  you  are  right,"  she  an- 
swered judicially,  "and  Phoebe  inherits 
lovingness  from  her  mother.  I  feel  that 
she  is  more  affectionate  than  she  shows, 
and  I  just  go  on  and  love  her  anyway. 
She  lets  me  do  it  very  often." 

And  from  the  depth  of  her  unsophisti- 
cated heart  Mrs.  Buchanan  had  evolved  a 
course  of  action  that  had  gone  far  in  com- 


forting  a  number  of  the  lonely  years 
through  which  Phoebe  Donelson  had 
waded.  She  had  been  young,  and  high- 
spirited  and  intensely  proud  when  she  had 
begun  to  fight  her  own  battles  in  her  six- 
teenth year.  Many  loving  hands  of  her 
mother's  and  father's  old  friends  had  been 
held  out  to  her  with  a  bounty  of  protec- 
tion, but  she  had  gone  her  course  and 
carved  her  own  fortune.  Her  social  posi- 
tion had  made  things  easy  for  her  in  a  way 
and  now  her  society  editorship  of  the  lead- 
ing journal  had  become  a  position  from 
which  she  wielded  much  power  over  the 
gay  world  that  delighted  in  her  wit  and 
beauty,  took  her  autocratic  dictums  in 
most  cases,  and  followed  her  vogue  almost 
absolutely. 

Her  independence  prompted  her  to  live 
alone  in  a  smart  down-town  apartment 
with  her  old  negro  mammy,  but  her  affec- 
tions demanded  that  she  take  refuge  at 


THE    RITUAL  45 

all  times  under  the  sheltering  wings  of 
Mrs.  Buchanan,  who  kept  a  dainty  nest 
always  in  readiness  for  her. 

The  tumultuous  wooing  of  David  Kil- 
dare  had  been  going  on  since  her  early 
teens  under  the  delighted  eyes  of  the  ma- 
jor, who  in  turn  both  furthered  and  hin- 
dered the  suit  by  his  extremely  philosoph- 
ical advice. 

Phoebe  was  the  crystallization  of  an  in- 
fusion of  the  blood  of  many  cultured, 
high-bred,  haughty  women  which  had  been 
melted  in  the  retort  of  a  stern  necessity 
and  had  come  out  a  rather  brilliant  speci- 
men of  the  modern  woman,  if  a  bit  hard. 
Viewed  in  some  ways  she  became  an  alarm- 
ing augury  of  the  future,  but  there  are 
always  potent  counter-forces  at  work  in 
life's  laboratory,  and  the  kind  of  forces 
that  David  Kildare  brought  to  bear  in 
his  wooing  were  never  exactly  to  be  calcu- 
lated upon.  And  so  the  major  spent  much 


46      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

time  in  the  contemplation  of  the  problem 
presented. 

And  when  she  had  come  in  after  a  late 
lunch  to  call  upon  their  guest,  it  had  been 
intensely  interesting  to  the  major  to  re- 
gard the  effect  of  the  meeting  of  Phoebe's 
and  Caroline  Darrah's  personalities.  Car- 
oline's lovely,  shy  child's  eyes  had  melted 
with  delight  under  Phoebe's  straight,  gray, 
friendly  glances  and  her  fascination  for 
the  tall,  strong,  radiant  woman,  who  sat 
beside  her,  had  been  so  obvious  that  the 
major  had  chuckled  to  himself  under  his 
breath  as  he  watched  them  make  friends, 
under  Mrs.  Matilda's  poorly  concealed 
anxiety  that  they  should  at  once  adopt 
cordial  relations. 

"And  so  he  consented  to  undertake  the 
commission  for  you  because  he  was  inter- 
ested?" Phoebe  was  asking  as  they  talked 
about  the  sketches  of  the  statue.  A  very 
great  sculptor  was  doing  the  work  for 


THE    RITUAL  47 

Caroline  Darrah  Brown,  and  it  interested 
Phoebe  to  hear  how  he  had  consented  to 
accept  so  unimportant  a  commission. 

"Yes,"  answered  Caroline  in  her  exqui- 
site voice  which  showed  only  the  faintest 
liquid  trace  of  her  southern  inheritance. 
"I  told  him  all  about  it  and  he  became  in- 
terested. He  is  very  great,  and  simple, 
and  kind.  He  made  it  easy  to  show  him 
how  I  felt.  I  couldn't  tell  him  much  ex- 
cept how  I  felt;  but  I  think  it  has  some- 
thing of — that — in — it.  Don't  you  think 
so?"  As  she  spoke  she  laid  her  white  hand 
on  the  arm  of  Phoebe's  chair  and  leaned 
forward  with  her  dewy  tender  eyes  look- 
ing straight  into  the  gray  ones  opposite 
her. 

For  a  moment  Phoebe  returned  the 
glance  with  a  quiet  seriousness,  then  her 
eyes  lighted  a  second,  were  suffused  with 
a  quick  moisture,  and  with  a  proud  ges- 
ture she  bent  forward,  laying  both  hands 


48      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

on  Caroline's  shoulders  as  she  pressed  a 
deep  kiss  on  the  girl's  red  lips. 

"I  do  think  so,"  she  answered  with  a 
low  laugh  as  she  arose  to  her  feet,  drew 
Caroline  up  into  the  bend  of  her  arm  and 
faced  Mrs.  Buchanan  and  the  major.  "I 
know  the  loveliness  in  the  statue  is  what 
the  great  man  got  out  of  the  loveliness  in 
your  heart,  and  the  major  and  Mrs.  Ma- 
tilda think  so,  too.  And  I'm  going  quick 
because  I  must;  and  I'm  coming  back  as 
soon  as  I  can  because  I'm  going  to  find 
you  here — that  is  partly,  Major,"  and  be- 
fore they  could  stop  her  she  had  gone  on 
down  the  hall  and  they  heard  her  answer 
Jeff's  farewell  as  he  let  her  out  the  door. 

"That,  Caroline  Darrah  Brown,  was 
your  first  and  most  important  conquest," 
observed  the  major.  "Phoebe  has  a  white 
rock  heart  but  a  crystal  cracked  therefrom 
is  apt  to  turn  into  a  jewel  of  price.  Hers 
is  a  blood-ruby  friendship  that  pays  for 


40 

the  wearing  and  cherishing.  But  it's  time 
for  the  nap  Mrs.  Matilda  decides  for  me 
to  take  and  I  must  leave  you  ladies  to 
your  dimity  talk."  With  which  he  betook 
himself  to  his  room,  still  plainly  pleased 
at  the  result  of  Phoebe's  call  on  the 
stranger. 

The  two  women  thus  left  to  their  own 
devices  spent  a  delightful  half-hour  wan- 
dering over  the  house  and  discussing  its 
furnishings  and  arrangements.  Mrs. 
Buchanan  never  tired  of  the  delights  of 
her  town  home.  The  house  was  very 
stately  and  old-world,  with  its  treasures  of 
rare  ancestral  rosewood  and  mahogany 
that  she  had  brought  in  from  the  Seven 
Oaks  Plantation.  The  rooms  in  the  coun- 
try home  had  been  so  crowded  with  treas- 
ures of  bygone  generations  that  they  were 
scarcely  dismantled  by  the  furnishing  of 
the  town  house. 

She  was  in  her  glory  of  domesticity,  and 


50      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

as  she  passed  from  one  room  to  another 
she  told  Caroline  bits  of  interesting  his- 
tory about  this  piece  or  that.  In  her  na- 
ivete she  let  the  girl  see  into  the  long  hard 
years  that  had  been  a  hand-to-hand  strug- 
gle for  her  and  the  major  on  their  worn 
farm  lands  out  in  the  beautiful  Harpeth 
Valley. 

The  cropping  out  of  phosphate  on  the 
bare  fields  had  brought  a  comfortable 
fortune  in  its  train  to  the  old  soldier 
farmer  and  they  had  moved  into  this  town 
house  to  spend  the  winter  in  greater  ac- 
cessibility to  their  friends.  Her  own 
particular  little  world  had  welcomed  her 
with  delight,  and  Caroline  could  see  that 
she  was  taking  a  second  bellehood  as  if  it 
had  been  an  uninterrupted  reign. 

Most  of  the  financiers  of  the  city  were 
the  major's  old  friends  and  they  managed 
enormously  advantageous  contracts  with 
mining  companies  for  him,  and  had  taken 


THE    RITUAL  51 

him  into  the  schemes  of  the  mighty  with 
the  most  manifest  cordiality. 

His  study  became  the  scene  of  much 
important  plot  and  counter-plot.  They 
found  in  his  mind  the  quality  which  had 
led  them  to  outwit  many  an  enemy  when 
he  scouted  ahead  of  their  tattered  regi- 
ment, still  available  when  the  enemy  ap- 
peared under  commercial  or  civic  front. 
Also  it  naturally  happened  that  his  li- 
brary gradually  became  the  hunting- 
grounds  for  Mrs.  Matilda's  young  people, 
who  were  irresistibly  drawn  into  the  circle 
of  his  ever  ready  sympathy. 

The  whole  tale  and  its  telling  was  ab- 
sorbingly interesting  to  Caroline  Darrah 
Brown  and  she  listened  with  enraptured 
attention  to  it  all.  She  repeated  carefully 
the  names  of  her  mother's  friends  as  they 
came  up  in  the  conversation;  and  she  was 
pathetically  eager  to  know  all  about  this 
world  she  had  come  back  into,  from,  what 


52      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

already  seemed  to  her,  her  birth  in  a 
strange  land.  Two  days  in  this  country 
of  her  mother,  and  the  enchantment  of 
traditions  that  had  been  given  to  her  un- 
born was  already  at  work  with  its  spell ! 

And  so  they  rambled  around  and  talked, 
unheeding  the  time  until  the  early  twilight 
began  to  fall  and  Mrs.  Buchanan  was 
summoned  by  Jeff  to  a  consultation  in  the 
domestic  regions  with  the  autocratic 
Tempie. 

Left  to  herself,  Caroline  Darrah  wan- 
dered back  again  through  the  rooms  from 
one  object  to  another  that  inspired  the 
stories.  It  was  like  fairy-land  to  her  and 
she  was  in  a  long  dream  of  pleasure.  Out 
of  the  shadows  she  seemed  to  be  drawing 
her  wistful  young  mother,  and  hand  in 
hand  they  were  going  over  the  past  to- 
gether. 

When  it  was  quite  deep  into  the  twi- 
light she  sauntered  back  to  the  crackling 


THE    RITUAL  53 

comfort  of  the  major's  fragrant  logs.  A 
discussion  with  Jeff  over  his  toilet  had 
delayed  the  major  in  his  bedroom  and  she 
found  the  library  deserted,  but  hospitable 
with  firelight. 

How  long  she  had  been  musing  and 
castle-building  in  the  coals  she  scarcely 
knew,  when  a  step  on  the  polished  floor 
made  her  look  up,  and  with  a  little  ex- 
clamation she  rose  to  her  full,  slim,  young 
height  and  turned  to  face  a  man  who  had 
come  in  with  the  unannounced  surety  of 
a  member  of  the  household.  He  was  tall, 
broad  and  dark,  and  his  knickerbockers 
were  splashed  with  mud  and  covered  with 
clinging  burrs  and  pine-needles.  One 
arm  was  lashed  to  his  side  with  a  silk  sling 
and  he  held  a  huge  bunch  of  glowing  red 
berries  in  his  free  hand.  They  were 
branches  of  the  red,  coral-strung  buck 
bushes  and  Caroline  had  never  seen  them 
before.  Their  gorgeousness  fairly  took 


54      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

her  breath  and  she  exclaimed  with  the  in- 
genuous delight  of  a  child. 

"How  lovely,  how  lovely!"  she  cried  as 
she  stretched  out  her  hands  for  them.  "I 
never  saw  any  before.  Do  they  grow 
here?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  man  with  a  gleam 
of  amusement  in  his  dark  eyes,  "yes,  they 
came  from  Seven  Oaks.  The  fields  are 
full  of  them  now.  Do  you  want  them?" 
And  as  he  spoke  he  laid  the  bunch  in  her 
arms. 

"And  they  smell  woodsy  and  piny  and 
delicious.  Thank  you !  I — they  are  love- 
ly. I — "  She  paused  in  wild  confusion, 
looked  around  the  room  as  if  in  search  of 
some  one,  and  ended  by  burying  her  face 
in  the  berries.  "I  don't  know  where  Ma- 
jor Buchanan  is,"  she  murmured  help- 
lessly. 

"Well,  it  doesn't  matter,"  he  said  with  a 
comforting  smile  as  he  came  up  beside 


THE    RITUAL  55 

her  on  the  rug.  "They'll  introduce  us 
when  they  come.  I'm  Andrew  Sevier  and 
the  berries  are  yours,  so  what  matter?" 

"Oh,"  said  Caroline  Darrah  in  an  awed 
voice,  and  as  she  spoke  she  raised  her  head 
from  the  wood  flowers  and  her  eyes  to  his 
face,  "oh,  are  you  really  Andrew  Sevier?" 

"Yes,  really"  he  answered  with  another 
smile  and  a  slightly  puzzled  expression 
in  his  own  dark  eyes. 

"But  I  read  everything  I  can  find  about 
you,  and  the  papers  say  you  are  ill  in 
Panama.  I've  been  so  worried  about  you. 
I  saw  your  play  last  week  in  New  York 
and  I  couldn't  enjoy  it  for  wondering 
how  you  were.  I  wouldn't  read  your  poem 
in  this  month's  Review  because  I  was 
afraid  you  were  dead — and  I  didn't  know 
it.  I'm  so  relieved."  With  which  aston- 
ishing remark  she  drew  a  deep  breath  and 
laid  her  cheek  against  the  field  bouquet. 

"I  am — that  is  I  was  smashed  up  in 


56      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

Panama  until  David  came  down  and 
brought  me  home.  It  was  awfully  good 
of  you  to — to  know  that  I — that  I — "  An- 
drew Sevier  paused  as  mirth,  wonder  and 
gratitude  spread  in  confusion  over  his  sun- 
tanned face. 

"How  did  it  happen?  Was  it  very 
dreadful?"  And  again  those  distract- 
ingly  solicitous  eyes,  full  of  sympathetic 
anxiety,  were  raised  to  his.  Andrew  shook 
himself  mentally  to  see  if  it  could  possibly 
be  a  dream  he  was  having,  and  a  little 
thrill  shot  through  him  at  the  reality  of 
it  all. 

"Nothing  interesting;  end  of  a  bridge 
collapsed  and  put  a  rib  or  two  out  of  com- 
mission," he  managed  to  answer. 

"I  knew  it  was  something  dreadful," 
said  Caroline  Darrah  Brown  as  she  moved 
a  step  nearer  him.  "I  was  really  unhappy 
about  it  and  I  wondered  if  all  the  other 
people  who  read  your  poems  and  watch 


THE    RITUAL  57 

for  them  and — and  love  them  like  I  do, 
were  worried,  too.  But  I  concluded  that 
they  would  know  how  to  find  out  about 
you ;  only  I  didn't.  I'm  glad  you  are  here 
safe  and  that  I  know  it." 

The  puzzled  expression  in  Andrew  Se- 
vier's  face  deepened.  Of  course  he  had 
become  more  or  less  accustomed  to  the  in- 
terest which  his  work  had  caused  to  be 
attached  to  his  personality,  and  this  was 
not  the  first  time  he  had  had  a  stranger 
read  the  poet  into  the  man  on  first  sight. 
They  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  expect 
him  to  talk  in  blank  verse  he  felt  sure, 
especially  when  his  admirer  had  been  a 
member  of  the  opposite  and  fair  sex,  but 
a  thing  like  this  had  never  happened  to 
him  before.  It  was,  at  the  least,  disturb- 
ing to  have  a  lovely  woman  rise  out  of  the 
major's  very  hearthstone  and  claim  him  as 
a  familiar  spirit  with  the  exquisite  frank- 
ness of  a  child.  It  smacked  of  the  wine 


58      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

of  wizardry.  He  glanced  at  her  a  moment 
and  was  on  the  point  of  making  a  tenta- 
tive inquiry  when  the  major  came  into  the 
room. 

"Well,  Andy  boy,  you're  in  from  the 
fields,  I  see.  How's  the  farm?  Every 
thing  shipshape?"  As  he  spoke  the  major 
shot  a  keen  glance  from  under  his  beetling 
old  brows  at  the  pair  and  wisely  let  the 
situation  develop  itself. 

Andrew  answered  his  salutation 
promptly,  then  turned  an  amused  glance 
on  the  girl  at  his  side. 

"He  isn't  going  to  introduce  us,"  she 
laughed  with  a  friendly  little  look  up  into 
his  face.  "I  ought  to  have  done  it  myself 
when  you  did,  but  I  was  so  astonished — 
and  relieved  to  find  you.  I'm  Caroline 
Darrah  Brown." 

The  words  were  low  and  laughing  and 
warm  with  a  sweet  friendliness,  but  they 
crashed  through  the  room  like  the  breath 


THE    RITUAL  59 

of  a  swarm  of  furies.  Andrew  Sevier's 
face  went  white  and  drawn  on  the  instant, 
and  every  muscle  in  his  body  stiffened  to 
a  tense  rigidity.  His  dark  eyes  narrowed 
themselves  to  slits  and  glowed  like  the 
coals. 

The  major's  very  blood  stopped  in  his 
veins  and  his  fine  old  face  looked  drawn 
and  gray  as  he  stretched  out  his  hand  and 
laid  it  on  Caroline's  young  shoulder.  Not 
a  word  came  to  his  lips  as  he  looked  in  An- 
drew's face  and  waited. 

And  as  he  waited  a  wondrous  thing  and 
piercing  sweet  unfolded  itself  under  his 
keen  old  eyes  and  sank  like  a  balm  into 
his  wise  old  heart.  From  the  two  deep 
purple  pools  of  womanhood  that  were 
raised  to  his,  shy  with  homage  of  him  and 
unconscious  of  their  own  tender  reverenc- 
ing, Andrew  Sevier  drew  a  deep  draught 
into  his  very  soul.  Slowly  the  color 
mounted  into  his  face,  his  eyes  opened 


60      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

themselves  and  a  wonderful  smile  curled 
his  lips.  He  held  out  his  hand  and  took 
her  slender  fingers  into  a  strong  clasp 
and  held  them  for  a  long  moment.  Then 
with  a  smile  at  the  major,  which  was  a  mix- 
ture of  dignity  tinged  with  an  infinite 
sadness,  he  bent  over  and  gently  kissed 
the  white  hand  as  he  let  it  go.  The  little 
ceremony  had  more  chivalry  than  she  un- 
derstood. 

"Its  part  of  our  ritual  of  welcome  I'm 
claiming,"  he  said  lightly  as  she  blushed 
rose  pink  and  the  divine  shyness  deepened 
in  her  eyes.  She  again  buried  her  face  in 
the  berries. 

Then  with  a  proud  look  into  Andrew's 
face  the  major  laid  his  hand  on  the  young 
man's  bandaged  arm  and  bent  and  raised 
Caroline's  hand  to  his  lips. 

"It's  a  ritual,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "that 
I'm  honored  in  observing  with  him. 
Friendship  these  days  has  need  of  rituals 


THE    RITUAL  61 

of  ratification  and  the  pomp  of  ceremon- 
ials to  give  it  color.  There's  danger  of 
its  becoming  prosaic.  Jefferson,  turn  on 
the  lights." 


CHAPTER  III 


AND  then  in  a  few  weeks  winter  had  come 
down  from  over  the  hills  across  the  fields 
and  captured  the  city  streets  with  a  blare 
of  northern  winds,  which  had  been  met 
and  tempered  by  the  mellow  autumn 
breezes  that  had  been  slow  to  retreat  and 
abandon  the  gold  and  crimson  banners 
still  fluttering  on  the  trees.  The  snap 
and  crackle  of  the  Thanksgiving  frost 
had  melted  into  a  long  lazy  silence  of  a 
few  more  Indian  summer  days  so  that, 
with  lungs  filled  with  the  intoxicating 
draught  of  this  late  wine  of  October, 
everybody  had  ridden,  driven,  hunted, 
golfed  and  lived  afield. 
62 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      63 

Then  had  come  a  second  sweep  of  the 
northern  winds  and  the  city  had  wakened 
out  of  its  haze  of  desertion,  turned  up  its 
lights,  built  up  its  fires  and  put  on  the 
trappings  of  revelry  and  toil. 

The  major's  logs  were  piled  the  higher 
and  crackled  the  louder,  and  his  welcome 
was  even  more  genial  to  the  chosen  spirits 
which  gathered  around  his  library  table. 
He  and  Mrs.  Buchanan  had  succeeded  in 
prolonging  the  visit  of  Caroline  Darrah 
Brown  into  weeks  and  were  now  holding 
her  into  the  winter  months  with  loving  in- 
sistence. 

The  open-armed  hospitality  with  which 
their  very  delightful  little  world  had  wel- 
comed her  had  been  positively  entrancing 
to  the  girl  and  she  had  entered  into  its 
gaieties  with  the  joyous  zest  of  the  child 
that  she  was.  Her  own  social  experiences 
had  been  up  to  this  time  very  limited,  for 
she  had  come  straight  from  the  convent 


64      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

in  France  into  the  household  of  her  semi- 
invalided  father.  He  had  had  very  few 
friends  and  in  a  vaguely  uncomfortable 
way  she  had  been  made  to  realize  that  her 
millions  made  her  position  inaccessible,4 
but  by  these  delightful  people  to  whom 
social  position  was  a  birthright,  and  wealth 
regarded  only  as  a  purchasing  power  for 
the  necessities  and  gaieties  of  life,  she  had 
been  adopted  with  much  enthusiasm.  Her 
delight  in  the  round  of  entertainments  in 
her  honor  and  the  innocent  and  slightly 
bewildered  adventures  she  brought  the 
major  for  consultation  kept  him  in  a  con- 
stant state  of  interested  amusement.  Such 
advice  as  he  offered  went  far  in  preserving 
her  unsophistication. 

And  so  the  late  November  days  found 
him  enjoying  life  with  a  decidedly  added 
zest  in  things,  though  his  Immortals 
claimed  him  the  moment  he  was  left  to  his 
own  resources  and  at  times  he  even  be- 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      65 

came  entirely  oblivious  to  the  eddies  in 
the  lives  around  him.  One  cold  afternoon 
he  sat  in  his  chair,  buried  eyes-deep  in  one 
of  his  old  books,  while  across  from  him 
sat  Phoebe  and  Andrew  Sevier,  bending 
together  over  a  large  map  spread  out  be- 
fore them.  There  were  stacks  of  blue- 
prints at  their  elbows  and  their  conference 
had  evidently  been  an  interesting  one. 

"It's  all  wonderful,  Andrew,"  Phoebe 
was  saying,  "and  I'm  proud  indeed  that 
they  have  accepted  your  solution  of  such 
an  important  construction  problem;  but 
why  must  you  go  back?  Aren't  the  com- 
missions offered  you  here,  the  plays  and 
the  demand  for  your  writing  enough? 
Why  not  stay  at  home  for  a  year  or  two 
at  least?" 

"It's  the  call  of  it,  Phoebe,"  he  answered. 
"I  get  restless  and  there's  nothing  for  it 
but  the  hard  work  of  the  camp.  It's  lone- 
ly but  it  has  its  compensations,  for  the 


66      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

visions  come  down  there  as  they  don't  here. 
You  know  how  I  like  to  be  with  all  of  you ; 
and  it's  home — but  the  depression  gets 
more  than  I  can  stand  at  times  and  I  must 
go.  You  understand  better  than  the  rest, 
I  think,  and  I  always  count  on  you  to  help 
me  off."  As  he  spoke  he  rested  his  head 
on  his  hands  and  looked  across  the  table 
into  the  fire.  His  eyes  were  somber  and 
the  strong  lines  in  his  face  cut  deep  with 
a  grim  melancholy. 

Phoebe's  frank  eyes  softened  as  they 
looked  at  him.  They  had  grown  up  to- 
gether, friends  in  something  of  a  like  for- 
tune and  she  understood  him  with  a  frank 
comradeship  that  comforted  them  both  and 
went  far  to  the  distraction  of  young 
David  Kildare  who,  as  he  said,  trusted 
Andrew  but  looked  for  every  possible  sur- 
prising maneuver  in  the  conduct  of 
Phoebe.  And  because  she  understood  An- 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      67 

drew  Phoebe  was  silent  for  a  time,  tracing 
the  lines  on  his  map  with  a  pencil. 

"Then  you'll  have  to  go,"  she  said  soft- 
ly at  last,  "but  don't  stay  so  long  again." 
She  glanced  across  at  the  top  of  the  ma- 
jor's head  which  showed  a  rampant  white 
lock  over  the  edge  of  his  book.  "We  miss 
you ;  and  you  owe  it  to  some  of  us  to  come 
back  of tener  from  now  on." 

"I  always  will,"  answered  Andrew, 
quickly  catching  her  meaning  and  smiling 
with  a  responsive  tenderness  in  a  glance 
at  the  absorbed  old  gentleman  around  the 
corner  of  the  table.  "It  is  harder  to  go 
this  time  than  ever,  in  a  way;  and  yet  the 
staying's  worse.  I'm  giving  myself  until 
spring,  though  I  don't  know  why.  I — " 

Just  then  from  the  drawing-room  be- 
yond there  came  a  crash  of  soft  chords 
on  the  piano  and  David's  voice  rose  high 
and  sweet  across  the  rooms.  He  had  gone 


68      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

to  the  piano  to  sing  for  Caroline  who 
never  tired  of  his  negro  melodies  and 
southern  love  songs.  He  also  had  a  store 
of  war  ballads  with  which  it  delighted  him 
to  tease  and  regale  her,  but  to-day  his 
mood  had  been  decidedly  on  the  senti- 
mental vein. 

"I  want  no  stars  in  Heaven  to  guide  me, 
I  need  no 

but,  oh,  the  kingdom  of  my  heart, 

love, 
Lies  within  thy  loving  arms " 

His  voice  dropped  a  note  lower  and  the 
rest  of  the  distinctly  enunciated  words 
failed  to  reach  through  the  long  rooms. 
Phoebe  also  failed  to  catch  a  quick  breath 
that  Andrew  drew  as  he  began  stacking 
a  pile  of  blue-prints  into  a  leather  case. 

"David  Kildare,"  remarked  the  old  ma- 
jor as  he  looked  up  over  his  book,  "makes 
song  the  vehicle  of  expression  of  as  many 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      69 

emotions  in  one  half -hour  as  the  ordinary 
man  lives  through  in  a  lifetime.  Had 
you  not  better  attend  to  the  safeguarding 
of  Caroline  Darrah's  unsophistication, 
Phoebe?" 

"I  wouldn't  interrupt  him  for  worlds, 
Major,"  laughed  Phoebe  as  she  arose  from 
her  chair.  "I'm  going  to  slip  by  the  draw- 
ing-room and  hurry  down  to  that  meeting 
of  the  Civic  Improvement  Association 
from  which  I  hope  to  get  at  least  a  half 
column.  Andrew'll  go  in  and  see  to 
them." 

"Never!"  answered  Andrew  promptly 
with  a  smile.  "I'm  going  to  beat  a  retreat 
and  walk  down  with  you.  The  major 
must  assume  that  responsibility.  Good- 
by!"  And  in  a  moment  they  had  both 
made  their  escape,  to  the  major's  vast 
amusement. 

For  the  time  being  the  music  in  the 
drawing-room  had  stopped  and  David 


70      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

and  Caroline  were  deep  in  an  animated 
conversation. 

"The  trouble  about  it  is  that  I  am  about 
to  have  my  light  put  out,"  David  was  com- 
plaining as  he  sat  on  the  piano-stool,  glar- 
ing at  a  vase  of  unoffending  roses  on  a 
table.  "Being  a  ray  of  sunshine  around 
the  house  for  a  sick  poet  is  no  job  for  a 
runabout  child  like  me." 

"But  he's  so  much  better  now,  David, 
that  I  should  think  you  would  be  perfectly 
happy.  Though  of  course  you  are  still 
a  little  uneasy  about  him."  As  Caroline 
Darrah  spoke  she  swayed  the  long- 
stemmed  rose  she  held  in  her  hand  and 
tipped  it  against  one  of  its  mates  in  the 
vase. 

"Uneasy,  nothing!  There's  not  a  thing 
in  the  world  the  matter  with  him ;  ribs  are 
all  in  commission  and  his  collar-bone 
hitched  on  again.  It's  just  a  case  of 
moonie  sulks  with  him.  He  never  was  the 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      71 

real  glad  boy,  but  now  he  runs  entirely  to 
poetry  and  gloom.  He  won't  go  anywhere 
but  over  here  to  chew  book-rags  with  the 
major  or  to  read  goo  to  Phoebe,  which  she 
passes  on  to  you.  Wish  I'd  let  him  die  in 
the  swamps ;  chasing  away  to  Panama  for 
him  was  my  mistake,  I  see."  And  David 
ruffled  a  young  rose  that  drooped  confid- 
ingly over  toward  him. 

"Why  did  he  ever  go  to  Panama?  Why 
does  he  build  bridges  and  things?  Other 
people  like  you  and  me  can  do  that  sort 
of  thing ;  but  he — ,"  and  Caroline  Darrah 
raised  her  eyes  full  of  naive  questioning. 

"Heavens,  woman,  poetry  never  in  the 
world  would  grub-stake  six  feet  of  husky 
man!  But  that's  just  like  you  and  Phcebe 
and  all  the  other  women.  You  would  like 
to  feed  me  to  the  alligators,  but  the  poet 
must  sit  in  the  shade  and  chew  eggs  and 
grape  juice.  You  trample  on  my  feel- 
ings, child,"  and  David  sighed  plaintively. 


72      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

Caroline  eyed  him  a  moment  across  the 
rose  she  held  to  her  lips,  then  laughed  de- 
lightedly. 

"Indeed,  indeed,  I  couldn't  stand  losing 
you,  David,  nor  could  Phosbe.  Don't 
imagine  it!"  And  Caroline  confessed 
her  affection  for  him  with  the  naivete  with 
which  a  child  offers  a  flower. 

The  absolute  entente  cordiale  which  had 
existed  between  her  and  Phoebe  from  the 
moment  Mrs.  Buchanan  had  presented 
them  to  each  other  in  the  dusk-shadowed 
library,  had  been  extended  to  include 
David  Kildare.  He  was  duly  apprecia- 
tive of  her  almost  appealing  friendship, 
chaffed  her  about  the  three  governors,  de- 
pended upon  her  to  further  his  tumultuous 
suit,  admired  her  beauty,  insisted  upon  it 
in  season  and  out,  and  initiated  her  into 
the  social  intricacies  of  his  gay  set  with 
the  greatest  glee. 

"I  don't  trust  you  one  little  bit,  Caro- 


TWO   LITTLE    CRIMES      73 

line  Darrah  Brown,'*  David  broke  in  on 
her  moment's  silent  appreciation  of  him 
and  his  friendliness.  "You  look  at  him 
kinder  partial-like,  too." 

"Oh,  one  must  admire  him,  his  poems 
are  so  lovely!  I  have  watched  for  them 
from  the  first  one  years  ago.  Do  you  re- 
member the  one  where  he — " 

"Don't  remember  a  single  line  of  a  sin- 
gle one,  and  don't  want  to!  Phoebe's  al- 
ways quoting  them  at  me.  She's  got  a 
book  of  'em.  See  if  I  don't  smash  him  up 
some  day  if  I  have  to  listen  to  much  more 
of  it."  David's  face  was  a  study  in  the 
contradictions  of  a  tormented  grin. 

Caroline  eyed  him  again  for  a  moment 
across  the  rose  and  then  they  both  laughed 
delightedly.  But  David  was  for  the 
pressing  of  his  point  just  the  same. 

"Dear  Daughter  of  the  Three,"  he 
pleaded,  "can't  you  help  me  out?  Molly- 
coddle him  a  bit.  Do,  now,  that's  a  good 


74      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

child!  Keep  him  'interested',  as  she  calls 
it!  You  are  quite  as  good  to  look  at  as 
Phoebe  and  are  enough  more — more," — 
and  David  paused  for  a  word  that  would 
compare  Caroline's  appeal  and  Phoebe's 
brisk  challenge. 

"Yes,  I  understand.  I  really  am  more 
so ;  but  how  can  I  help  you  out  if  he  never 
even  sees  me  when  I'm  there?"  And  Caro- 
line raised  eyes  to  him  that  held  a  hint  of 
wistf ulness  in  their  banter. 

"The  old  mole-eyed  grump  never  sees 
anybody  nor  anything.  But  let's  plot  a 
scheme.  This  three-handed  game  doesn't 
suit  me;  promise  to  be  good  and  sit  in.  I 
haven't  had  Phoebe  to  myself  for  the  long 
time.  He  needs  a  heart  interest  of  his  own 
— I'm  tired  of  lending  him  mine.  You're 
not  busy — that's  a  sweet  girl !  Don't  make 
me  feel  I  inherited  you  for  nothing,"  said 
David  in  a  most  beguiling  voice  as  he 
moved  a  shade  nearer  to  her. 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      75 

"I  promise,  I  promise!  If  you  take  that 
tone  with  me,  I'm  afraid  not  to:  but  I  feel 
you  mistake  my  powers,"  and  Caroline 
laid  the  rose  across  her  knee  and  dropped 
her  long  lashes  over  her  eyes.  "I  think  I'll 
fail  with  your  poet;  something  tells  me  it 
is  a  vain  task.  Let's  put  it  in  the  hands  of 
the  gods.  It  may  interest  them." 

"No,  I'm  going  to  shoo  him  in  here 
right  now,"  answered  David,  bent  upon 
the  immediate  accomplishment  of  his 
scheme  for  the  relief  of  his  very  independ- 
ent lady-love  from  her  friendly  durance. 
"You  just  wait  and  get  a  line  of  moon- 
talk  ready  for  him.  Keep  that  rose  in  your 
hand  and  handle  your  eyes  carefully." 

"Oh,  but  it's  impossible!"  exclaimed 
Caroline  with  real  alarm  in  her  voice.  She 
rose  and  the  flower  fell  shattered  at  her 
feet.  "I'm  going  to  have  a  little  business 
talk  with  the  major  before  Captain  Can- 
trell  and  the  other  gentlemen  come.  I 


have  an  appointment  with  him.  Won't 
you  leave  it  to  the  gods?" 

"No,  for  the  gods  might  not  know 
Phoebe.  She'd  hunt  a  hot  brick  for  a  sick 
kitten  if  I  was  freezing  to  death,  and  be- 
sides I  need  her  in  my  business  at  this  very 
moment." 

"Caroline,  my  dear,"  said  the  major 
from  the  door  into  the  library,  "from  the 
strenuosity  in  the  tones  of  David  Kildare 
I  judge  he  is  discussing  his  usual  topic. 
Phoebe  and  Andrew  have  just  gone  and 
left  their  good-bys  for  you  both." 

"Now,  Major,"  demanded  David  indig- 
nantly, "how  could  you  let  her  get  away 
when  you  had  her  here?" 

"Young  man,"  answered  the  major, 
"the  constraining  of  a  woman  of  these 
times  is  well-nigh  impossible,  as  you 
should  have  found  out  after  your  re- 
peated efforts  in  that  direction." 

"That's  it,  Major,  you  can't  hang  out 


TWO   LITTLE    CRIMES      77 

any  signal  for  them  now ;  you  have  to  grab 
them  as  they  go  past,  swing  out  into  space 
and  pray  for  strength  to  hold  on.  I  be- 
lieve if  you  stood  still  they  would  come 
and  feed  out  of  your  hand  a  heap  quicker 
than  they  will  be  whistled  down — if  you 
can  get  the  nerve  to  try  'em.  Think  I'll 
go  and  see."  And  David  took  his  studiedly 
unhurried  departure. 

"David  Kildare  translates  courtship 
into  strange  modern  terms/'  remarked  the 
major  as  he  led  Caroline  into  the  library 
and  seated  her  in  Mrs.  Matilda's  low  chair 
near  his  own. 

"The  roses  are  blooming  this  morning, 
my  dear,"  he  said,  looking  with  delight  at 
the  soft  color  in  her  cheeks  and  the  stars 
in  her  black-lashed,  violet  eyes.  A  shaft 
of  sunlight  glinted  in  the  gold  of  her  hair 
which  was  coiled  low  and  from  which  lit- 
tle tendrils  curled  down  on  her  white  neck. 

She  was  very  dainty  and  lovely,  was 


78      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

Caroline  Darrah  Brown,  with  the  loveli- 
ness of  a  windflower  and  young  with  the 
innocent  youngness  of  an  April  day.  She 
was  slightly  different  from  any  girl  the 
major  had  ever  known  and  he  observed 
her  type  with  the  greatest  interest. 

She  had  been  tutored  and  trained  and 
French-convented  and  specialized  by 
adepts  in  the  inculcating  of  every  air  and 
grace  with  which  the  women  of  vaster 
wealth  are  expected  to  be  equipped. 
Money  and  the  girl  had  been  the  ruling 
passions  of  Peters  Brown's  life  and  the 
one  had  been  all  for  the  serving  purposes 
of  the  other.  It  had  been  the  one  aim  of 
his  existence  to  bring  to  a  perfect  flower- 
ing the  new-born  bud  his  southern  wife 
had  left  him,  and  he  had  succeeded.  Yet 
she  seemed  so  slight  a  woman-thing  to  be 
bearing  the  burden  of  a  great  wealth  and 
a  great  loneliness  that  the  major's  eyes 
grew  very  tender  as  he  asked: 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      79 

"What  is  it,  dear,  a  crumpled  rose- 
leaf?" 

"Major,"  she  answered  as  her  slender 
fingers  opened  and  closed  a  book  on  the 
table  near  her,  "did  you  realize  that  two 
months  have  passed  since  I  came  to — to — " 

"Came  home^  child,"  prompted  the  ma- 
jor as  he  touched  lightly  the  restless  hand 
near  his  own. 

"I  am  beginning  to  feel  as  if  it  might 
be  that,  and  yet  I  don't  know — not  until 
I  talk  to  you  about  it  all.  Everybody  has 
been  good  to  me.  I  feel  that  they  really 
care  and  I  love  it — and  them  all!  But, 
Major,  did  you — know — my  father — 
well?" 

"Yes,  my  dear,*'  he  answered,  looking 
her  straight  in  the  eyes,  "I  knew  Peters 
Brown  and  had  pleasantly  hostile  relations 
with  him  always." 

"This  memorandum — I  got  it  together 
before  I  came  down  here,  while  I  was  set- 


80      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

tling  up  his  estate.  It  is  the  list  of  the  in- 
vestments he  made  while  in  the  South  for 
the  twenty  years  after  the  war.  I  want  to 
talk  them  over  with  you."  She  looked  at 
the  major  squarely  and  determinedly. 

"Fire  away,"  he  answered  with  courage 
in  his  voice  that  belied  the  feeling  be- 
neath it. 

"I  see  that  in  eighteen  seventy-nine  he 
bought  lumber  lands  from  Hayes  Donel- 
son.  The  price  seems  to  have  been  prac- 
tically nominal  in  view  of  what  he  sold  a 
part  of  them  for  three  years  later.  Was 
Hayes  Donelson  Phoebe's  father?  I  want 
to  know  all  about  him." 

"My  dear,  you  are  giving  a  large  order 
for  ancient  history — Captain  Donelson 
couldn't  fill  it  himself  if  he  were  alive. 
Those  lumber  lands  were  just  a  stick  or 
two  that  he  threw  on  the  grand  bonfire. 
He  sold  everything  he  had  and  instituted 
and  ran  the  most  inflammatory  newspaper 


TWO   LITTLE   CRIMES      81 

in  the  South.  He  gloried  in  an  attitude  of 
non-reconstruction  and  died  when  Phoebe 
was  a  year  old.  Her  mother  raised  Phoebe 
by  keeping  boarders,  but  failed  to  raise  the 
mortgage  on  the  family  home.  She  died 
trying  and  Phoebe  has  kept  her  own  sleek 
little  head  above  water  since  her  sixteenth 
year  by  reporting  and  editing  Dimity  Do- 
ings on  the  paper  her  father  founded.  I 
think  she  has  learned  a  pretty  good  swim- 
ming stroke  by  this  time.  It  is  still  a  meas- 
ure ahead  of  that  of  David  Kildare 
and—" 

"Oh,  you  must  help  me  make  her  take 
what  would  have  been  a  fair  price  for 
those  lands,  Major.  I'm  determined — I — 
I — "  Caroline's  voice  faltered  but  her 
head  was  well  up.  "I'm  determined;  but 
we'll  talk  of  that  later.  He  bought  the 
Cantrell  land  and  divided  it  up  into  the 
first  improved  city  addition.  Was  it,  was 
it  'carpetbagging'  ?"  She  flushed  as  she 


82      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

said  the  word — "Was  it  pressure?  Were 
the  Cantrells  in  need?" 

"Not  for  long,  my  dear,  not  for  longl 
Mrs.  Tom  took  that  money  and  bought 
cows  for  the  east  farm,  ran  a  dairy  in  op- 
position to  Matilda's  and  then  got  her  into 
a  combine  to  ship  gilt-edge  to  Cincinnati. 
I  expected  them  to  skim  the  milky  way 
any  night  and  put  a  star  brand  of  butter 
on  the  market.  They  made  a  great  deal  of 
money  and  were  proportionately  hard  to 
manage.  Young  Tom  inherits  from  his 
mother  and  makes  paying  combines  in 
stocks.  Old  Tom  hasn't  a  thing  to  do  but 
sit  in  the  sun  and  spin  tales  about  battles 
he  was  and  was  not  in.  It  wouldn't  do  to 
drag  up  that  pinched  period  of  his  life; 
he  is  too  expansive  now  to  be  made  to  re- 
call it."  The  major  smiled  invitingly  as 
if  he  had  hopes  of  an  interested  question 
that  would  turn  the  trend  of  the  con  versa- 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      83 

tion,  but  Caroline  Darrah  held  herself 
sternly  to  the  matter  in  hand. 

"And  you,  I  see  a  sale  of  half  of  your 
land  at—" 

"Caroline  Darrah  Brown,  look  me 
straight  in  the  eyes,"  interrupted  the  ma- 
jor in  a  commanding  voice.  He  sat  up 
and  bent  his  keen  black  eyes  that  sparkled 
under  his  heavy  white  brows  with  absolute 
luminosity  upon  the  girl  at  his  side. 
When  aroused  the  major  was  a  live  wire 
and  he  was  buckling  on  his  sword  to  do 
battle  with  a  woman-trouble,  and  a  dire 
one. 

"Now,"  he  continued,  "I'm  going  to 
say  things  to  you  that  you  are  to  under- 
stand and  remember,  young  woman.  Your 
father  did  come  down  among  us  with  what 
you  have  heard  called  a  'carpetbag'  in  his 
hands,  but  it  wasn't  an  empty  one:  and 
while  the  sums  he  handed  out  to  each  of 


84,      ANDREW    THE   GLAD 

us  might  be  considered  inadequate,  still 
they  were  a  purchasing  power  at  a  time 
when  things  were  congested  for  the  lack 
of  any  circulating  medium  whatever. 
True,  I  sold  him  half  my  thousand  acres 
for  a  song;  but  the  song  fenced  the  other 
half,  bought  implements  and  stock,  and 
made  Matilda  possible.  She  was  eighteen 
and  I  was  twenty-eight  when  we  joined 
forces  and  it  was  decidedly  to  the  tune  of 
your  father's  'song'.  It  was  the  same 
with  the  rest  of  his — friends.  You  must 
see  that  in  the  painful  processes  of  recon- 
structing us  the  carpetbag  had  its  uses.  If 
it  went  away  plethoric  with  coal  and  iron 
and  lumber,  it  left  a  little  gold  in  its  wake. 
And  Peters  Brown — " 

"Major,"  said  Caroline  in  a  brave  voice, 
"it  killed  him,  the  memory  of  it  and  not 
being  able  to  bring  me  back  to  her  people. 
He  was  changed  and  he  realized  that  he 
left  me  very  much  alone  in  the  world.  If 


TWO   LITTLE    CRIMES      85 

there  had  been  any  of  her  immediate  fam- 
ily alive  we  might  have  felt  differently — 
but  her  friends — I  didn't  know  that  I 
would  be  welcomed.  Now — now — I  begin 
to  hope.  I  want  to  give  some  of  it  back! 
I  have  so  much — " 

"Caroline,  child,"  answered  the  major 
with  a  smile  that  was  infinitely  tender,  "we 
don't  need  it !  We've  had  a  hand-to-hand 
fight  to  inherit  the  land  of  our  fathers  but 
we're  building  fortunes  fast;  we  and  the 
youngsters.  The  gray  line  has  closed  up 
its  ranks  and  toed  hard  marks  until  it  pre- 
sents a  solid  front  once  more;  some  of  it 
bent  and  shaky  but  supported  on  all  sides 
by  keen  young  blood.  A  solid  front,  I 
say,  and  a  friendly  one,  flying  no  banners 
of  bitterness — don't  you  like  us?"  and  the 
smile  broadened  until  it  warmed  the  very 
blood  in  Caroline  Darrah's  heart. 

"Yes,"  she  said  as  she  lifted  her  eyes  to 
his  and  laid  both  her  hands  in  the  lean 


86      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

strong  one  he  held  out  for  her  then,  "and 
all  that  awful  feeling  has  gone  com- 
pletely. I  feel — feel  new  born!" 

"And  isn't  it  a  great  thing  that  we  mor- 
tals are  given  a  few  extra  natal  days?  If 
we  were  born  all  at  one  time  we  couldn't 
so  well  enjoy  the  processes.  Now,  I  intend 
to  assume  that  fate  has  laid  you  on  my 
door-step  and — " 

"Dearie  me,"  said  Mrs.  Buchanan  as 
she  sailed  into  the  room  with  colors  flying 
in  cheeks  and  eyes,  "did  Phoebe  go  on  to 
that  meeting  after  all?  Did  she  promise 
to  come  back?  Where's  Andrew?  Caro- 
line, child,  what  have  you  and  the  major 
been  doing  all  the  afternoon?  It's  after 
four  and  you  are  both  still  indoors." 

"I  have  been  adopting  Caroline  Darrah 
and  she  has  been  adopting  me,"  answered 
the  major  as  he  caught  hold  of  the  lace 
that  trailed  from  one  of  his  wife's  wrists. 
"I  think  I  am  about  to  persuade  her  to 


She  laid  both  her  hands  in  the  lean  strong  one. 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      87 

stay  with  us.  I  find  I  need  attention  occa- 
sionally and  you  are  otherwise  engaged 
for  the  winter." 

"Isn't  he  awful,  Caroline,"  smiled  Mrs. 
Matilda  as  she  sank  for  a  moment  on  a 
chair  near  them,  "when  I  haven't  a  thought 
in  the  day  that  is  not  for  him?  But  I  must 
hurry  and  tell  Tempie  that  they  will  all 
be  here  from  the  philharmonic  musicale 
for  tea.  Dear,  please  see  that  the  flowers 
are  arranged ;  I  had  to  leave  it  to  Jane  this 
morning.  I  find  I  must  run  over  and 
speak  to  Mrs.  Shelby  about  something  im- 
portant, for  a  moment.  Shall  I  have  but- 
tered biscuits  or  cake  for  tea?  Caroline, 
love,  just  decide  and  tell  Tempie.  I'll  be 
back  in  a  minute,"  and  depositing  an  airy 
kiss  on  the  major's  scalp  lock  and  bestow- 
ing a  smile  on  Caroline,  she  departed. 

The  major  listened  until  he  heard  the 
front  door  close  then  said  with  one  of  his 
slow  little  smiles,  "If  I  couldn't  shut  my 


88      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

eye  and  get  a  mental  picture  of  her  in  a 
white  sunbonnet  with  her  skirts  tucked  up 
trudging  along  behind  me  dropping  corn 
in  the  furrows  as  I  opened  them  with  the 
plow,  I  might  feel  that  I  ought  to — er — 
remonstrate  with  her.  But  there  are  bub- 
bles in  the  nature  of  most  women  that  will 
rise  to  the  surface  as  soon  as  the  cork  is 
removed.  Matilda  is  a  good  brand  of  ex- 
tra dry  and  the  cork  was  in  a  long  time — 
rammed  down  tight — bless  her!" 

"She  is  the  very  dearest  thing  I  ever 
knew,"  answered  Caroline  with  a  curly 
smile  around  her  tender  mouth.  "A  let- 
ter she  wrote  while  under  the  pressure  of 
the  cork  is  my  chiefest  treasure.  It  was 
written  to  welcome  me  when  I  was  born 
and  I  found  it  last  summer,  old  and  yel- 
low. It  was  what  made  me  think  I  might 
come — home." 

"That  was  like  Matilda,"  answered  the 
major  with  a  smile  in  his  eyes.  "She  was 


TWO   LITTLE    CRIMES      89 

putting  in  a  claim  for  you  then,  though 
she  didn't  realize  it.  Women  have  always 
worked  combinations  by  wireless  at  long 
time  and  long  distance.  Better  make  it 
buttered  biscuits,  and  Phoebe  likes  them 
with  plenty  of  butter." 

Tempie's  adoption  of  Caroline  Darrah 
had  been  as  complete  and  as  enthusiastic 
as  the  rest  of  them  and  she  had  proceeded 
forthwith  to  put  her  through  a  course  of 
domestic  instruction  that  delighted  the 
hearts  of  them  both.  She  never  failed  to 
bemoan  the  fate  that  had  left  the  child  ig- 
norant of  matters  of  such  importance  and 
she  was  stern  in  her  endeavor  to  correct 
the  pernicious  neglect.  She  had  to  admit, 
however,  that  Caroline  was  an  extraor- 
dinarily apt  pupil  and  she  laid  it  all  to 
what  she  called  "the  Darrah  strain  of  cook- 
ing blood,"  though  she  was  as  proud  as 
possible  over  each  triumph.  Nothing 
pleased  them  both  more  than  to  have  Mrs, 


90      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

Buchanan  occasionally  leave  culinary  ar- 
rangements to  their  co-administration. 

An  hour  later  a  gay  party  was  gathered 
around  the  table  in  the  drawing-room. 
The  major  sat  near  at  hand  enjoying  it 
hugely,  and  his  comments  were  dropped 
like  philosophical  crystals  into  the  swell 
of  the  conversation. 

Mrs.  Cherry  Lawrence  had  come  in 
with  Mrs.  Matilda  in  all  the  bravery  of 
a  most  striking,  becoming  and  expensive 
second  mourning  costume,  and  she  was 
keenly  alive  to  every  situation  that  might 
be  made  to  compass  even  the  smallest 
amount  of  gaiety.  Her  lavender  em- 
broideries were  the  only  reminders  of  the 
existence  of  the  departed  Cherry,  and 
their  lavishness  was  a  direct  defiance  of 
his  years  of  effort  in  the  curtailing  of  the 
tastes  of  his  expensive  wife. 

Tom  Cantrell's  lean  dark  face  of  In- 
dian cast  lit  up  like  a  transparency  when 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      91 

she  arrived  and  he  left  Polly  Farrell's 
side  so  quickly  that  Polly  almost  dropped 
the  lemon  fork  with  which  she  was  ma- 
neuvering, in  her  surprise  at  his  sudden 
desertion.  In  a  moment  he  had  divested 
the  widow  of  a  long  cloth  and  sable  coat 
that  would  have  made  Cherry  sit  up  and 
groan  if  he  had  even  had  a  grave-dream 
about  it.  She  bestowed  a  smile  on  Polly, 
a  still  more  impressive  one  on  the  major 
and  sank  into  a  chair  near  Phoebe. 

"Why,  where  is  David  Kildare?"  she 
asked  interestedly.  "I  thought  he  would 
be  here  before  me.  He  promised  to  come. 
Phoebe,  you  are  sweet  in  that  dark  gray. 
Has  anybody  anything  interesting  to 
tell?" 

"I  have,"  answered  Polly  as  she  passed 
Phoebe  a  cup  and  a  mischievous  smile,  for 
Mrs.  Cherry's  appointment  with  David 
tickled  Polly's  risibles  to  an  alarming  ex- 
tent. "There's  the  most  heavenly  man 


02      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

down  here  from  Boston  to  see  Caroline 
Darrah  Brown  and  she  neglects  him.  I'm 
so  sorry  for  him  that  I  don't  know  what 
will  happen.  I'm " 

"Why,  where  is  he?"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Cherry  with  the  utmost  cordiality. 

They  all  laughed  as  Polly  parted  her 
charming  lips  and  passed  the  questioner 
the  lemon  slices  with  impressive  obvious- 
ness. 

"He's  gone  to  the  station  to  see  about 
his  horses  that  he  has  had  shipped  down. 
We're  going  to  hunt  some  more,  no  mat- 
ter how  cold ;  all  of  us,  Caroline  and  David 
and  the  rest." 

"Andrew  Sevier  hasn't  hunted  at  all 
this  fall,  as  fond  of  it  as  he  is.  He'll 
never  come  now  that  you've  annexed  a 
foreign  element,  Polly.  He's  among 
strangers  so  much  that  he's  rather  absurd 
about  wanting  the  close  circle  of  just  his 
old  friends  to  be  unbroken  when  he's 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      93 

home.  Where  is  he  to-day?"  As  she  spoke 
Mrs.  Cherry  had  looked  at  Caroline  Dar- 
rah  with  a  glance  in  which  Phoebe  detected 
a  slight  insolence  and  at  which  the  major 
narrowed  his  observant  eyes. 

"Why,  he's  gone  down  to  the  station 
with  Caroline's  friend  to  see  about  having 
the  horses  sent  out  to  Seven  Oaks,"  an- 
swered Phoebe  in  a  smooth  cool  voice.  "I 
think  all  of  us  have  been  disappointed  that 
Andrew  has  had  to  be  so  careful  since  his 
accident;  but  now  that  he  can  come  over 
here  every  day  to  book  gloat  with  the  ma- 
jor and  have  Mrs.  Matilda  and  Tempie, 
to  say  nothing  of  Caroline  Darrah,  the 
new  star  cook-lady,  to  feed  him  up,  I  think 
we  can  go  about  our  own  affairs  unwor- 
ried  over  him."  The  sweet  smile  that 
Phoebe  bent  upon  the  widow  was  so  deli- 
cious that  the  major  rattled  the  sugar 
tongs  on  the  tea-tray  by  way  of  relief 
from  an  unendurably  suppressed  chuckle. 


94      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"But  when  I  hunt  next  David  has  prom- 
ised me  possums  and  persimmons,"  said 
Caroline  Darrah  from  her  seat  on  the  sofa 
beside  Phoebe.  She  was  totally  oblivious 
of  the  small  tongue-tilt  just  completed. 
"He  says  the  first  damp  night  on  the  last 
quarter  of  the  moon  when  the  wind  is 
from  the  southeast  and " 

"Howdy,  people!"  came  an  interrupt- 
ing call  from  the  hall  and  at  that  moment 
David  himself  came  into  the  room.  "I'm 
late  but  I've  been  four  places  hunting  for 
you,  Phoebe,  and  had  three  cups  of  tea 
in  the  scramble.  However,  I  would  like  a 
buttered  biscuit  if  somebody  feeds  it  to 
me.  I've  had  a  knock-out  blow  and  I've 
got  news  to  tell." 

"You  can  tell  it  before  you  get  the  bis- 
cuit," said  Phoebe  cold-heartedly,  but  she 
laid  two  crisp  disks  on  the  edge  of  his 
saucer.  She  apparently  failed  to  see  that 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      95 

Mrs.  Cherry  was  endeavoring  to  pass  him 
the  plate. 

"It's  only  that  Milly  Overton  has  per- 
petrated two  more  crimes  on  the  commu- 
nity, at  three-thirty  to-day — assorted  boy 
and  girl."  And  David  grinned  with  sheer 
delight  at  having  projected  such  a  bomb 
in  the  circle. 

"What!"  demanded  Phoebe  while  Mrs. 
Cherry  lay  back  in  her  chair  and  fanned 
herself,  and  Mrs.  Buchanan  paused  with 
suspended  teapot. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  jubilantly,  "Of 
course  little  Mistake  is  only  two  and  a 
quarter  and  Crimie  can  just  toddle  on  his 
hocks  at  one  and  a  fifth  years ;  but  the  two 
little  crimes  are  here,  and  are  going  to 
stay.  Billy  Bob  is  down  at  the  club  get- 
ting his  back  slapped  off  about  it.  He's 
accessory  you  understand.  He  says  Milly 
is  radiant  and  wants  all  of  you  to  come 


96      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

and  see  them  right  away.  But  what  I  want 
to  see  is  Grandma  Shelby — won't  she 
rage?  I'm  going  to  send  her  a  message 
of  congratulations  and  then  stand  away. 
Just  watch  for — " 

"Why — I  don't  quite  understand,"  said 
Caroline  Darrah  as  she  leaned  forward 
with  puzzled  eyes. 

"Neither  do  any  of  the  rest  of  us,"  an- 
swered David  gleefully.  "We  didn't  un- 
derstand how  Billy  Bob  managed  to  pluck 
Mildred  from  the  golden-dollar  Shelby 
stem  in  the  first  place,  at  a  salary  of  one 
twenty-five  a  month  out  at  Hob's  mills. 
But  Billy  Bob  is  the  brave  boy  and  he 
marched  right  up  and  told  the  old  lady 
about  the  first  kid  as  soon  as  he  came. 
Then  she  glared  at  him  and  said  in  an  aw- 
ful tone,  'Mistake.'  Billy  Bob  just  oozed 
out  of  that  door  and  Mistake  the  young- 
ster has  been  ever  since.  I  named  the  next 
Crimie  before  she  got  to  it.  But  watch 


TWO   LITTLE    CRIMES      97 

her  rage,  poor  old  dame !  It's  up  to  some- 
body to  remonstrate  with  Milly  about  this 
unbecoming  conduct  it  seems  to  me,"  and 
David  glanced  around  the  little  circle  for 
his  laugh  which  he  promptly  received. 

Only  Phoebe  sat  with  her  head  turned 
from  him  and  Caroline  Darrah  exclaimed 
in  distress: 

"How  could  her  mother  not  care  for 
them?" 

"Tempie,"  said  Mrs.  Buchanan,  "pack 
up  a  basket  of  every  kind  of  jelly.  Get 
that  little  box  I  fixed  day  before  yester- 
day ;  you  know  it ;  wasn't  it  fortunate  that 
I  embroidered  two  ?  And  tell  Jeff  I  want 
the  carriage  at  six." 

"And,  Tempie,  tell  Jeff  to  get  you  two 
bottles  of  that  seventy-two  brandy;  no, 
maybe  the  sixty-eight  will  be  better;  it's 
apple,  and  apples  and  colic  bear  a  syn- 
thetic relation  which  in  this  case  may  be  re- 
versed. Those  children  must  be  started 


98      ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

off  in  life  properly."  And  the  major's 
eyes  shone  with  the  most  amused  interest. 

"What's  that?"  asked  David  in  the  gen- 
eral excitement  that  had  arisen  at  a  far- 
ther realization  of  his  news.  "Don't  you 
want  them  to  join  the  'state  wide'  band, 
Major?  Aren't  you  going  to  give  them 
a  chance  to  fly  a  white  ribbon?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  answered  the 
major  with  a  judicial  eye,  "temperance  is 
a  quality  of  mind  and  not  solely  of  throat. 
Let's  depend  somewhat  on  eradication  by 
future  education  and  not  give  the  colic  a 
start." 

"Don't  you  think  it  would  be  nice  for 
you  girls  to  drive  down  with  me  and  take 
the  babies  some  congratulations  and  flow- 
ers, Phoebe?"  asked  Mrs.  Buchanan  an 
hour  later  as  they  all  lingered  over  the 
empty  cups.  "Will  you  come  too,  David?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Phoebe,  "I  think  it 
would  be  lovely,  but  you  and  Caroline 


TWO    LITTLE    CRIMES      99 

drive  down  and  I  will  walk  in  with  David, 
I  think.  Ready,  David?"  And  Phoebe 
gathered  up  her  muff  and  gloves  and  gave 
her  hand  to  the  major. 

"David,"  she  said  after  they  had  reached 
the  street  and  were  swinging  along  in  the 
early  twilight ;  and  as  she  spoke  she  looked 
him  full  in  the  face  with  her  gray  level 
glance  that  counted  whenever  she  chose  to 
use  it,  "is  it  your  idea — do  you  think  it 
fair  to  ridicule  Mildred  about — the 
babies?" 

"Why,"  answered  the  completely 
floored  Kildare,  "I  just  haven't  any  idea 
on  the  subject.  Everybody  was  laughing 
about  it — and  isn't  it — er — a  little 
funny?" 

"No,"  answered  Phoebe  emphatically, 
"it  isn't  funny  and  if  you  begin  to  laugh 
everybody  else  will.  It  may  hurt  Milly, 
she  is  so  gentle  and  dear,  and  you  are  their 
best  friend.  I  won't  have  it!  I  won't!  I'm 


100    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

tired,  anyway,  of  having  fun  made  of  all 
the  sacred  things  in  life.  All  of  us  swing 
around  in  a  silly  whirl  and  when  a  woman 
like  Mildred  begins  to  live  her  life  in  a — 
er — natural  way,  we — ridicule!  She  is 
brave  and  strong  and  works  hard ;  and  she 
has  the  real  things  of  life  and  makes  the 
sacrifices  for  them.  While  we — " 

"Oh,  heavenly  hope,  Phoebe!"  gasped 
David  Kildare,  "don't  rub  it  in!  I  see  it 
now — a  lot  of  magazine  stuff  jogging 
the  women  up  about  the  kids  and  all — and 
here  Milly  is  a  hero  and  we — the  jolly  fun- 
pokers.  I've  got  to  help  'em  some  way! 
Wish  Billy  Bob  would  sell  me  this  last 
bunch;  guess  he  would — one,  anyway?" 
And  the  contrite  David  gazed  down  at 
Phoebe  in  whose  upturned  eyes  there 
dawned  a  wealth  of  mirth. 

"David,"  she  said,  perhaps  more  soft- 
ly than  she  had  ever  spoken  to  him  in  all 
the  days  of  his  pursuit,  "I  know — I  felt 


TWO   LITTLE    CRIMES    101 

sure  that  you  felt  all  right  about  it.  I 
couldn't  bear  to  have  you  say  or  do — " 

"Now,  I'll  'fess  a  thing  to  you  that  I 
didn't  think  wild  horses  could  drag  out  of 
me,  Phoebe.  I  was  down  there  an  hour 
ago  in  the  back  hall  of  that  flat  and  Billy 
Bob  let  me  hold  the  pair  of  'em  and 
squeeze  'em.  I  guess  we  both — just  shed 
a  few,  you  know,  because  he  was  so  ex- 
cited. Men  are  such  slobs  at  times — when 
women  don't  know  about  it."  And  David 
winked  fiercely  at  the  early  electric  light 
that  glowed  warm  against  the  winter  sky. 

"And  you  are  a  very  dear  boy,  David," 
said  Phoebe  softly  as  her  hand  slipped  out 
of  her  muff  and  dropped  into  his  and 
rested  there  for  just  one  enchanting  half- 
second.  "Dearer  than  you  know  in  some 
ways.  No,  don't  think  of  coming  up  with 
me,  you've  paid  your  visit  of  welcome. 
Good  night!  Yes,  I  think  so — in  the  aft- 
ernoon about  three  o'clock  and  we  can  go 


102    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

on  to  Mrs.  Pepton's  reception.      Good 
night  again!" 

"Phoebe,"  he  called  after  her,  "the  one 
with  the  yellow  fuzz  is  the  girl,  buy  her 
for  me  if  you  can  flimflam  Milly  into  it! 
Any  old  price,  you  know.  Hurrah, 
America  for  the  Anglo-Saxons!  Hurrah 
f or  MiUy  and  Dixie!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

ACCORDING  TO  SOLOMON 

"AND  it  was  by  this  very  pattern,  Caro- 
line, I  made  the  dozen  I  sent  Mary  Caro- 
line for  you.  See  the  little  slips  fold  over 
and  hold  up  the  petticoats,"  and  Mrs.  Bu- 
chanan held  up  a  tiny  garment  for  Caro- 
line Darrah  to  admire.  They  sat  by  the 
Sunny  window  in  her  living-room  and  both 
were  sewing  on  dainty  cambric  and  lace. 
Caroline  Darrah's  head  bent  over  the 
piece  of  ruffling  in  her  hand  with  flower- 
like  grace  and  the  long  lines  from  her 
throat  suggested  decidedly  a  very  lovely 
Preraphaelite  angel.  Her  needle  moved 
slowly  and  unaccustomedly  but  she  had 
the  air  of  doing  the  hemming  bravely  if 
fearfully. 

103 


"Isn't  it  darling?"  she  said  as  she  raised 
her  head  for  a  half -second,  then  immedi- 
ately dropped  her  eyes  and  went  on  print- 
ing her  stitches  carefully.  "What  else 
was  in  that  box,  I  feel  I  need  to  know?" 
she  asked. 

"Let  me  see!  The  dozen  little  shirts, 
they  were  made  out  of  some  of  my  own 
trousseau  things  because  of  a  scarcity  of 
linen  in  those  days,  and  two  little  embroid- 
ered caps  and  a  blue  cashmere  sack  and  a 
set  of  crocheted  socks  and — and  the  ma- 
jor sent  brandy,  he  always  does.  I  have 
the  letter  she  wrote  me  about  it  all.  And 
to  think  she  had  to  leave — "  Mrs.  Ma- 
tilda's eyes  misted  as  she  paused  to  thread 
her  needle. 

"She  didn't  realize — that,  and  think  of 
what  she  felt  when  she  opened  the  box," 
said  Caroline  as  she  raised  her  eyes  that 
smiled  through  a  threatened  shower.  "Oh, 
I  mustn't  let  the  tears  fall  on  Little  Sis- 


ACCORDING   TO    SOLOMON    105 

ter's  ruffle!"  she  added  quickly  as  she  took 
up  her  work. 

"That  reminds  me  of  an  accident  to  the 
shirts  I  made  for  Phoebe.  They  were  be- 
ing bleached  in  the  sun  when  a  calf  took 
a  fancy  to  them  and  chewed  two  of  them 
entirely  up  before  we  discovered  him.  I 
was  so  provoked,  for  I  had  no  more  linen 
as  fine  as  I  wanted." 

"Of  course  the  calf  ate  up  my  shirts," 
came  in  Phoebe's  laughing  voice  from  the 
doorway  where  she  had  been  standing  un- 
observed for  several  minutes,  watching 
Mrs.  Buchanan  and  Caroline.  "Some- 
thing is  always  chewing  at  my  affairs  but 
Mrs.  Matilda  shoos  them  away  for  me 
sometimes  still — even  calves  when  it  is 
positively  necessary.  How  very  indus- 
trious you  do  look!  At  times  even  I  sigh 
for  a  needle,  though  I  wouldn't  know 
what  to  do  with  it.  There  seems  to  be 
something  in  a  woman's  soul  that  nothing 


106    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

but  a  needle  satisfies;  morbid  craving, 
that!" 

"Phoebe,  I  want  to  make  something  for 
you.  I  feel  I  must  as  soon  as  these  petti- 
coats for  Little  Sister  are  done.  What 
shall  it  be?"  and  Caroline  Darrah  beamed 
upon  Phoebe  with  the  warmest  of  inter- 
woman  glances.  The  affection  for  Phoebe 
which  had  possessed  the  heart  of  Caroline 
Darrah  had  deepened  daily  and  to  its  de- 
mands, Phoebe,  for  her,  had  been  most  un- 
usually responsive. 

"At  your  present  rate  of  stitching  I 
will  have  a  year  or  two  to  decide,  beauti- 
ful," she  answered  as  she  settled  down  on 
the  broad  window-seat  near  them.  "Da- 
vid Kildare  and  I  have  come  to  lunch, 
Mrs.  Matilda,  and  the  major  has  sent  him 
over  for  Andrew.  I  hope  he  brings  him, 
but  I  doubt  it.  I  have  told  Tempie  and 
she  says  she  is  glad  to  have  us,"  she  added 
as  Mrs.  Buchanan  turned  and  looked  in 


ACCORDING   TO    SOLOMON    107 

the  direction  of  the  kitchen  regions.  They 
all  smiled,  for  the  understanding  that  ex- 
isted between  Phcebe  and  Tempie  was  the 
subject  of  continual  jest. 

"Have  you  seen  the  babies  to-day?" 
asked  Caroline  as  she  drew  a  long  new 
thread  through  the  needle.  "Isn't  it  love- 
ly the  way  people  are  making  them  pres- 
ents? Mr.  Capers  says  the  men  at  the 
mills  are  going  to  give  them  each  a  thou- 
sand dollar  mill  bond." 

"Well,  I  doubt  seriously  if  they  will 
live  to  use  the  bonds  if  some  one  does  not 
stop  David  from  trying  experiments  with 
them,"  answered  Phoebe  with  a  laugh. 
"After  dinner  last  night  he  came  in 
with  two  little  sleeping  hammock  ma- 
chines which  he  insisted  in  putting  up  on 
the  wall  for  them.  If  the  pulley  catches 
you  have  to  stand  on  a  chair  to  extract 
them;  and  if  it  slips,  down  they  come. 
Milly  was  so  grateful  and  let  him  play 


108    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

with  them  for  an  hour;  she's  a  sweet  soul." 

"Has  he  sent  any  more  food?"  asked 
Mrs.  Matilda  as  they  all  laughed. 

"Two  more  cases  of  a  new  kind  he  saw 
advertised  in  a  magazine.  Somebody 
must  tell  him  that — Milly  is  equal  to  the 
situation.  Billy  Bob  won't;  and  so  the 
cases  continue  to  arrive.  The  pantry  is 
crowded  with  them  and  they  have  sent  a 
lot  to  the  Day  Nursery,"  and  Phoebe 
slipped  from  the  window-seat  down  on  to 
the  rug  at  Caroline's  feet  in  a  perfect  ec- 
stasy of  mirth. 

"But  he  is  just  the  dearest  boy,  Phoebe," 
said  Caroline  Darrah  as  she  paused  in  her 
sewing  to  caress  the  sleek,  black,  braided 
head  tipped  back  against  her  knee.  There 
was  the  shadow  of  reproach  in  her  voice 
as  she  smiled  down  into  the  gray  eyes  up- 
turned to  hers. 

"Yes,"  answered  Phoebe,  instantly  on 
the  defensive,  "he  is  just  exactly  that, 


ACCORDING   TO    SOLOMON    109 

Caroline  Darrah  Brown — and  he  doesn't 
seem  to  be  able  to  get  over  it.  I'm  afraid 
it's  chronic  with  him." 

"He's  young  yet,"  Mrs.  Buchanan  re- 
marked as  she  clipped  a  thread  with  her 
bright  scissors. 

"No,"  said  Phoebe  slowly,  "he  is  six 
years  older  than  I  am  and  that  makes  him 
thirty-two.  I  have  earned  my  living  for 
ten  years  and  a  man  five  years  younger 
who  sits  at  a  desk  next  to  mine  at  the  office 
is  taking  care  of  his  mother  and  educating 
two  younger  brothers  on  a  salary  that  is 
less  than  mine — but  David  is  a  dear!  Did 
you  see  the  little  coats  Polly  sent  the 
babies?"  she  asked  quickly  to  close  the  sub- 
ject and  to  cover  a  note  of  pain  she  had 
discovered  in  her  own  voice. 

"They  were  lovely,"  answered  Mrs.  Bu- 
chanan. "Now  let  me  show  you  how  to 
roll  and  whip  your  ruffle,  Caroline  dear," 
she  added  as  she  bent  over  Caroline's  com- 


110    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

pleted  hem.  In  a  moment  they  were  both 
immersed  in  a  scientific  discussion  of  un- 
der-and-over  stitch. 

Phoebe  clasped  her  knees  in  her  arms 
and  gazed  into  the  fire.  Her  own  invol- 
untary summing  up  of  David  Kildare 
had  struck  into  her  inner  consciousness 
like  a  blow.  And  Phoebe  could  not  have 
explained  to  even  herself  what  it  was  in 
her  that  demanded  the  hewer  of  wood  and 
drawer  of  water  in  a  man — in  David.  De- 
cidedly Phoebe's  demands  were  for  ele- 
mentals  and  she  questioned  Kildare's  right 
to  his  leisurely  life  based  on  the  Jefferson- 
ian  ideals  of  his  forefathers. 

And  while  they  sewed  and  chatted  the 
hour  away,  over  in  the  library  the  major 
and  David  were  in  interested  conclave. 

"Now,  I  leave  it  to  you,  Major,  if  he 
isn't  just  the  limit,"  said  David  on  his  re- 
turn from  his  mission  for  the  purpose  of 
drawing  Andrew  from  his  lair.  "I 


ACCORDING   TO    SOLOMON    111 

couldn't  budge  him.  He  is  writing  away 
like  all  possessed  with  a  two-apple-and-a 
cracker  lunch  on  the  table  beside  him.  He 
seems  to  enjoy  a  death-starve." 

"David,"  said  the  major  as  he  laid  aside 
the  book  he  had  been  buried  in  and  began 
to  polish  his  glasses,  "you  make  no  allow- 
ances whatever  for  the  artistic  tempera- 
ment. When  a  man  is  making  connection 
with  his  solar  plexus  he  doesn't  consider 
the  consumption  of  food  of  paramount 
importance.  Now  in  this  treatise  of  Aris- 
totle—" 

"Well,  anyway,  I've  made  up  my  mind 
to  fix  up  something  between  him  and 
Caroline  Darrah.  He's  got  to  get  a  heart 
interest  of  his  own  and  let  mine  alone. 
The  child  is  daffy  about  his  poetry  and 
moons  at  him  all  the  time  out  of  the  cor- 
ners of  her  eyes,  dandy  eyes  at  that;  but 
the  old  ink-swiller  acts  as  if  she  wasn't 
there  at  all.  What '11 1  do  to  make  him  just 


112    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

see  her?  Just  see  her — see  her — that'll  be 
enough !" 

"David,"  said  the  major  quietly  as  he 
looked  into  the  fire  with  his  shaggy  brows 
bent  over  his  keen  eyes,  "the  combination 
of  a  man  heart  and  a  woman  heart  makes 
a  dangerous  explosive  at  the  best,  but  here 
are  things  that  make  it  fatal.  The  one 
you  are  planning  would  be  deadly." 

"Why,  why  in  the  world  shouldn't  I 
touch  them  off?  Perfectly  nice  girl,  all 
right  man  and — " 

"Boy,  have  you  forgotten  that  I  told 
you  of  the  night  Andrew  Sevier's  father 
killed  himself;  yes,  that  he  had  sat  the 
night  through  at  the  poker  table  with 
Peters  Brown?  Brown  offered  some 
restoration  compromise  to  the  widow  but 
she  refused — you  know  the  struggle  that 
she  made  and  that  it  killed  her.  We  both 
know  the  grit  it  took  for  Andrew  to  chisel 
himself  into  what  he  is.  The  first  after- 


ACCORDING   TO    SOLOMON    113 

noon  he  met  the  girl  in  here,  right  by  this 
table,  for  an  instant  I  was  frightened — 
only  she  didn't  know,  thank  God!  The 
Almighty  gardens  His  women-things  well 
and  fends  off  influences  that  shrivel;  it 
behooves  men  to  do  the  same." 

"So  that's  it,"  exclaimed  Kildare,  seri- 
ous in  his  dismay.  "Of  course  I  remem- 
ber it,  but  I  had  forgotten  to  connect  up 
the  circumstances.  It's  a  mine  all  right, 
Major — and  the  poor  little  girl!  She 
reads  his  poetry  with  Phoebe  and  to  me 
and  she  admires  him  and  is  deferential  and 
— that  girl — the  sweetest  thing  that  ever 
happened!  I  don't  know  whether  to  go 
over  and  smash  him  or  to  cry  on  his  col- 
lar." 

"Dave,"  answered  the  major  as  he 
folded  his  hands  and  looked  off  across  the 
housetops  glowing  in  the  winter  sun, 
"some  snarls  in  our  life-lines  only  the  Al- 
mighty can  unravel;  He  just  depends  on 


114    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

us  to  keep  hands  off.  Andrew  is  a  fine 
product  of  disastrous  circumstances.  A 
man  who  can  build  a  bridge,  tunnel  a 
mountain  and  then  sit  down  by  a  con- 
struction camp-fire  at  night  and  write  a 
poem  and  a  play,  must  cut  deep  lines  in 
life  and  he'll  not  cut  them  in  a  woman's 
heart — if  he  can  help  it." 

"And  she  must  never  know,  Major, 
never''  said  David  with  distress  in  his 
happy  eyes;  "we  must  see  to  that.  It 
ought  to  be  easy  to  keep.  It  was  so  long 
ago  that  nobody  remembers  it.  But  wait 
— that  is  what  Mrs.  Cherry  Lawrence 
meant  when  she  said  to  Phoebe  in  Caro- 
line's presence  that  it  was  just  as  well  un- 
der the  circumstances  that  the  committee 
had  not  asked  Andrew  to  write  the  poem 
for  the  unveiling  of  the  statue.  I  won- 
dered at  the  time  why  Phoebe  dealt  her 
such  a  knock-out  glance  that  even  I  stag- 
gered. And  she's  given  her  cold-storage 


ACCORDING   TO    SOLOMON    115 

attentions  ever  since.  Mrs.  Cherry  rather 
fancies  Andy,  I  gather.  Would  she  dare, 
do  you  think?" 

"Women,"  remarked  the  major  dryly, 
"when  man-stalking  make  very  cruel  en- 
emies for  the  weaker  of  their  kind.  Let's 
be  thankful  that  pursuit  is  a  perverted  in- 
stinct in  them  that  happens  seldom.  We 
can  trust  much  to  Phoebe.  The  Almighty 
puts  the  instinct  for  mother  guarding  all 
younger  or  lesser  women  into  the  heart  of 
superbly  sexed  women  like  Phoebe  Don- 
elson,  and  with  her  aroused  we  may  be  able 
to  keep  it  from  the  child." 

"Ah,  but  it  is  sad,  Major,"  said  David 
in  a  low  voice  deeply  moved  with  emotion. 
"Sad  for  her  who  does  not  know — and  for 
him  who  does." 

"And  it  was  farther  reaching  than  that, 
Dave,"  answered  the  major  slowly,  and 
the  hand  that  held  the  dying  pipe  trem- 
bled against  the  table.  "Andrew  Sevier 


116    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

was  a  loss  to  us  all  at  the  time  and  to  you 
for  whom  we  builded.  The  youngest  and 
strongest  and  best  of  us  had  been  mowed 
down  before  a  four-years'  rain  of  bullets 
and  there  were  few  enough  of  us  left  to 
build  again.  And  of  us  all  he  had  the 
most  constructive  power.  With  the  same 
buoyant  courage  that  he  had  led  our  regi- 
ment in  battle  did  he  lead  the  remnant  of 
us  in  reconstructing  our  lives.  He  was 
gay  and  optimistic,  laughed  at  bitterness 
and  worked  with  infectious  spirits  and 
superb  force.  We  all  depended  on  him 
and  followed  him  keenly.  We  loved  him 
and  let  ourselves  be  laughed  into  his 
schemes.  It  was  his  high  spirits  and  tem- 
perament that  led  to  his  gaming  and  trag- 
edy. Nearly  thirty  years  he's  been  dead, 
the  happy  Andrew.  This  boy's  like  him, 
very  like  him." 

"I  see  it — I  see  it,"  answered  David 
slowly,  "and  all  of  that  glad  heart  was 


ACCORDING   TO   SOLOMON   117 

bred  in  Andy,  Major,  and  it's  there  under 
his  sadness.  Heavens,  haven't  I  seen  it  in 
the  hunting  field  as  he  landed  over  six 
stiff  bars  on  a  fast  horse?  It's  in  some 
of  his  writing  and  sometimes  it  flashes  in 
his  eyes  when  he  is  excited.  I've  seen  it 
there  lately  more  often  than  ever  before. 
God,  Major,  last  night  his  eyes  fairly 
danced  when  I  plagued  Caroline  into  ask- 
ing him  to  whom  he  wrote  that  serenade 
which  I  have  set  to  music  and  sing  for  her 
so  often.  It  hurts  me  all  over — it  makes 
me  weak — " 

"It's  hunger,  David,  lunch  is  almost 
ready,"  said  Phoabe  who  had  come  into 
the  room  in  time  to  catch  his  last  words. 
"Why,  where  is  Andrew?  Wouldn't  he 
come?" 

"No,"  answered  Kildare  quickly,  cover- 
ing his  emotion  with  a  laugh  as  he  refused 
to  meet  Caroline  Darrah's  eyes  which 
wistfully  asked  the  same  question  that 


118    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

Phoebe  had  voiced,  "he  is  writing  a  poem 
— about — about,"  his  eyes  roamed  the 
room  wildly  for  he  had  got  into  it,  and 
his  stock  of  original  poem-subjects  was 
very  short.  Finally  his  music  lore  yielded 
a  point,  "It's  about  a  girl  drinking — only 
with  her  eyes  you  understand — and — " 

"He  could  save  himself  that  trouble," 
laughed  Phoebe,  "for  somebody  has  al- 
ready written  that;  did  it  some  time  ago. 
Run  stop  him,  David." 

"No,"  answered  David  with  recovered 
spirit,  "I'd  flag  a  train  for  you,  Phoebe, 
but  I  don't  intend  to  side-track  a  poem  for 
anybody.  Besides,  I'm  hungry  and  I  see 
Jeff  with  a  tray.  Mrs.  Matilda,  please 
put  Caroline  Darrah  by  me.  She's  atten- 
tive and  Phoebe  just  diets — me." 

And  while  they  laughed  and  chatted  and 
feasted  the  hour  away,  across  the  street 
Andrew  sat  with  his  eyes  looking  over  on 
to  the  major's  red  roof  which  was  shrouded 


ACCORDING   TO    SOLOMON    119 

in  a  mist  of  yesterdays  through  which  he 
was  watching  a  slender  boy  toil  his  way. 
When  he  was  eight  he  had  carried  a  long 
route  of  the  daily  paper  and  he  could  feel 
now  the  chill  dark  air  out  into  which  he 
had  slipped  as  his  mother  stood  at  the  door 
and  watched  him  down  the  street  with  sad 
and  hungry  eyes,  the  gaunt  mother  who 
had  never  smiled.  He  had  fought  and 
punched  and  scuffled  in  the  dawn  for  his 
bundle  of  papers ;  and  he  had  fought  and 
scuffled  for  all  he  had  got  of  life  for  many 
years.  But  a  result  had  come — and  it  was 
rich.  How  he  had  managed  an  education 
he  could  hardly  see  himself;  only  the  ma- 
jor had  helped.  Not  much,  but  just 
enough  to  make  it  possible.  And  David 
had  always  stood  by. 

Kildare's  fortune  had  come  from  some 
almost  forgotten  lumber  lands  that  his 
father  had  failed  to  heave  into  the  Con- 
federate maelstrom.  Perhaps  it  had  come 


120    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

a  little  soon  for  the  very  best  upbuilding 
of  the  character  of  David  Kildare,  but  he 
had  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  them 
all  in  the  fight  for  the  establishment  of 
the  new  order  of  things  and  his  generosity 
with  himself  and  his  wealth  had  been  su- 
perb. The  delight  with  which  he  made  a 
gift  of  himself  to  any  cause  whatsoever, 
rather  tended  to  blight  the  prospects  of 
what  might  have  been  a  brilliant  career  at 
law.  With  his  backing  Hobson  Capers 
had  opened  the  cotton  mills  on  a  margin  of 
no  capital  and  much  grit.  Then  Tom 
Cantrell  had  begun  stock  manipulations 
on  a  few  blocks  of  gas  and  water,  which 
his  mother  and  Andrew  had  put  up  the 
money  to  buy — and  nerve. 

It  was  good  to  think  of  them  all  now 
in  the  perspective  of  the  then.  Were  there 
any  people  on  earth  who  could  swing  the 
pendulum  like  those  scions  of  the  wilder" 
ness  cavaliers  and  do  it  with  such  dignity? 


ACCORDING   TO   SOLOMON   121 

He  was  tasting  an  aftermath  and  he  found 
it  sweet — only  the  bitterness  that  had 
killed  his  mother  before  he  was  ten.  And 
across  the  street  sat  the  daughter  of  the 
man  who  had  pressed  the  cup  to  her  lips — 
with  her  father's  millions  and  her  mother's 
purple  eyes. 

He  dropped  his  hand  on  his  manuscript 
and  began  to  write  feverishly.  Then  in 
a  moment  he  paused.  The  Panama  camp- 
fire,  beside  which  he  had  written  his  first 
play,  that  was  running  in  New  York 
now,  rose  in  a  vision.  Was  it  any  wonder 
that  the  managers  had  jumped  at  the 
chance  to  produce  the  first  drama  from  the 
country's  newly  acquired  jungle?  The 
lines  had  been  rife  with  the  struggle  and 
intrigue  of  the  great  canal  cutting.  It 
really  was  a  ripping  play  he  told  himself 
with  a  smile — and  this  other?  He  looked 
at  it  a  moment  in  a  detached  way.  This 
other  throbbed. 


122    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

He  gathered  the  papers  together  in  his 
hand  and  walked  to  the  window.  The  sun 
was  now  aslant  through  the  trees.  It  was 
late  and  they  must  have  all  gone  their 
ways  from  across  the  street;  only  the  ma- 
jor would  he  alone  and  appreciative.  An- 
drew smiled  quizzically  as  he  regarded  the 
pages  in  his  hand — but  it  was  all  so  to  the 
good  to  read  the  stuff  to  the  old  fellow 
with  his  Immortals  ranged  round! 

"Great  company  that,"  he  mused  to 
himself  as  he  let  himself  out  of  the  apart- 
ment. And  as  he  walked  slowly  across  the 
street  and  into  the  Buchanan  house,  Fate 
took  up  the  hand  of  Andrew  Sevier  and 
ranged  his  trumps  for  a  new  game. 

In  the  moment  he  parted  the  curtains 
and  stepped  into  the  library  the  old  dame 
played  a  small  signal,  for  there,  in  the 
major's  wide  chair,  sat  Caroline  Darrah 
Brown  with  her  head  bent  over  a  large 
volume  spread  open  upon  the  table. 


ACCORDING   TO    SOLOMON    123 

"Oh,"  she  said  with  a  quick  smile  and 
a  rose  signal  in  her  cheeks,  "the  major  isn't 
here !  They  came  for  him  to  go  out  to  the 
farm  to  see  about — about  grinding  some- 
thing up  to  feed  to — to — something  or 
sheep — or — ,"  she  paused  in  distress  as  if 
it  were  of  the  utmost  importance  that  she 
should  inform  him  of  the  major's  absence. 

"Silo  for  the  cows,"  he  prompted  in  a 
practical  voice.  It  was  well  a  practical  re- 
mark fitted  the  occasion  for  the  line  from 
old  Ben  Jonson,  which  David  had  only  a 
few  hours  ago  accused  him  of  plagiariz- 
ing, rose  to  the  surface  of  his  mind.  Such 
deep  wells  of  eyes  he  had  never  looked  into 
in  all  his  life  before,  and  they  were  as  ever, 
filled  to  the  brim  with  reverence,  even  awe 
of  him.  It  was  a  heady  draught  he  quaffed 
before  she  looked  down  and  answered  his 
laconic  remark. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "that  was  it.  And  Mrs. 
Matilda  and  Phoebe  motored  out  with  him 


124    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

and  David  went  on  his  horse.  I  am  mak- 
ing calls,  only  I  didn't.  I  stopped  to — " 
and  she  glanced  down  with  wild  confusion, 
for  the  book  spread  out  before  her  was  the 
major's  old  family  Bible,  and  the  type 
was  too  bold  to  fail  to  declare  its  identity 
to  his  quick  glance. 

"Don't  worry,"  he  hastened  to  say,  "I 
don't  mind.  I  read  it  myself  sometimes, 
when  I'm  in  a  certain  mood." 

"It  was  for  David — he  wanted  to  read 
something  to  Phoebe,"  she  answered  in 
ravishing  confusion,  and  pointed  to  the 
open  page. 

Thus  Andrew  Sevier  was  forced  by  old 
Fate  to  come  near  her  and  bend  with  her 
over  the  book.  The  tip  of  her  exquisite 
finger  ran  along  the  lines  that  have  fig- 
ured in  the  woman  question  for  many  an 
age. 

'  'For  her  price  is  far  above  rubies.  The 
heart  of  her  husband  doth  safely  trust  in 


ACCORDING   TO    SOLOMON    125 

her'  " — and  so  on  down  the  page  she  led 
him. 

"And  that  was  what  the  trouble  was 
about,"  she  said  when  they  had  read  the 
last  word  in  the  last  line.  She  raised  her 
eyes  to  his  with  laughter  in  their  depths. 
"It  was  a  very  dreadful  battle  and  Phoebe 
won.  The  major  found  this  for  him  to 
read  to  her  and  she  said  she  did  not  intend 
to  go  into  the  real  estate  business  for  her 
husband  or  to  rise  while  it  was  yet  night 
to  give  him  his  breakfast.  Aren't  they 
funny,  funny?"  and  she  fairly  rippled 
with  delight  at  her  recollection  of  the  van- 
quishing of  the  intrepid  David. 

"The  standards  for  a  wife  were  a  bit 
strenuous  in  those  days,"  he  answered, 
smiling  down  on  her.  "I'm  afraid  Dave 
will  have  trouble  finding  one  on  those 
terms.  And  yet — "  he  paused  and  there 
was  a  touch  of  mockery  in  his  tone. 

"I  think  that  a  woman  could  be  very, 


126    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

very  happy  fulfilling  every  one  of  those 
conditions  if  she  were  woman  enough," 
answered  Caroline  Darrah  Brown,  looking 
straight  into  his  eyes  with  her  beautiful, 
disconcerting,  dangerous  young  serious- 
ness. 

Andrew  picked  up  his  manuscript  with 
the  mental  attitude  of  catching  at  a  straw. 

"Oh,"  she  said  quickly,  "you  were  going 
to  read  to  the  major,  weren't  you?"  And 
the  entreaty  in  her  eyes  was  as  young  as 
her  seriousness ;  as  young  as  that  of  a  very 
little  girl  begging  for  a  wonder  tale.  The 
heart  of  a  man  may  be  of  stone  but  even 
flint  flies  a  spark. 

Andrew  Sevier  flushed  under  his  pallor 
and  ruffled  his  pages  back  to  a  serenade  he 
had  written,  with  which  the  star  for  whom 
the  play  was  being  made  expected  to  ex- 
ploit a  deep-timbred  voice  in  a  recitative 
vocalization.  And  while  he  read  it  to  her 
slowly,  Fate  finessed  on  the  third  round. 


ACCORDING   TO    SOLOMON    127 

And  so  the  major  found  them  an  hour 
or  more  later,  he  standing  in  the  failing 
light  turning  the  pages  and  she  looking 
up  at  him,  listening,  with  her  cheek  upon 
her  interlaced  fingers  and  her  elbows  rest- 
ing on  the  old  book.  The  old  gentleman 
stood  at  the  door  a  long  time  before  he  in- 
terrupted them  and  after  Andrew  had 
gone  down  to  put  Caroline  into  her  motor- 
car, which  had  been  waiting  for  hours,  he 
lingered  at  the  window  looking  out  into 
the  dusk. 

'  'For  love  is  as  strong  as  death,' "  he 
quoted  to  himself  as  he  turned  to  the 
table  and  slowly  closed  the  book  and  re- 
turned it  to  its  place.  "  'And  many  waters 
can  not  quench  love,  neither  can  the  floods 
drown  it/  '  "Solomon  was  very  great — 
and  human,"  he  further  observed. 

Then  after  absorbing  an  hour  or  two  of 
communion  with  some  musty  old  papers 
and  a  tattered  volume  of  uncertain  age, 


the  major  was  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Ma- 
tilda as  she  came  in  from  her  drive.  She 
was  a  vision  in  her  soft  gray  reception 
gown,  and  her  gray  hat,  with  its  white  vel- 
vet rose,  was  tipped  over  her  face  at  an 
angle  that  denoted  the  spirit  of  adven- 
ture. 

"I'm  so  glad  to  get  back,  Major,"  she 
said  as  she  stood  and  regarded  him  with 
affection  beaming  in  her  bright  eyes. 
"Sometimes  I  hurry  home  to  be  sure  you 
are  safe  here.  I  don't  see  you  as  much  as 
I  do  out  at  Seven  Oaks  and  I'm  lonely  go- 
ing places  away  from  you." 

"Don't  you  know  it  isn't  the  style  any 
longer  for  a  woman  to  carry  her  husband 
in  her  pocket,  Matilda,"  he  answered. 
"What  would  Mrs.  Cherry  Lawrence 
think  of  you?" 

Mrs.  Buchanan  laughed  as  she  seated 
herself  by  him  for  the  moment.  "I've  just 
come  from  Milly's,"  she  said.  "I  left 


ACCORDING   TO    SOLOMON    129 

Caroline  there.  And  Hobson  was  with 
her;  they  had  been  out  motoring  on  the 
River  Road.  Do  you  suppose — it  looks  as 
if  perhaps — ?" 

"My  dear  Matilda,"  answered  the  ma- 
jor, "I  never  give  or  take  a  tip  on  a  love 
race.  The  Almighty  endows  women 
with  inscrutable  eyes  and  the  smile  of  the 
Sphynx  for  purposes  of  self-preservation, 
I  take  it,  so  a  man  wastes  time  trying  to 
solve  a  woman-riddle.  However,  Hobson 
Capers  is  running  a  risk  of  losing  much 
valuable  time  is  the  guess  I  chance  on  the 
issue  in  question." 

"And  Peyton  Kendrick  and  that  nice 
Yankee  boy  and — " 

"All  bunched,  all  bunched  at  the  second 
post!  There's  a  dark  horse  running  and 
he  doesn't  know  it  himself.  God  help 
him!"  he  added  under  his  breath  as  she 
turned  to  speak  to  Tempie. 

"If  you  don't  want  her  to  marry  Hob- 


130    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

son  whom  do  you  choose?"  she  said  return- 
ing to  the  subject.  "I  wish — I  wish — 
but  of  course  it  is  impossible,  and  I'm 
glad,  as  it  is,  that  Andrew  is  indifferent." 
"Yes,"  answered  the  major,  "and  you'll 
find  that  indifference  is  a  hall  mark 
stamped  on  most  modern  emotions." 


CHAPTER  V 

DAVID'S  EOSE  AND  SOME  THORNS 

"Now,"  said  David,  "if  you'll  just  put 
away  a  few  of  those  ancient  pipes  and 
puddle  your  papers  a  bit  in  your  own  cozy 
corner  we  can  call  these  quarters  ready  to 
receive  the  ladies,  God  bless  'em!  Does 
it  look  kinder  bare  to  you?  We  might 
borrow  a  few  drapes  from  the  madam, 
or  would  you  trust  to  the  flowers?  I'll 
send  them  up  for  you  to  fix  around  tasty. 
A  blasted  poet  ought  to  know  how  to 
bunch  spinach  to  look  well." 

As  he  spoke  David  Kildare  stood  in  the 

middle  of  the  living-room  in  his  bachelor 

quarters,  which  were  in  the  Colonial,  a  tall 

pillared,    wide    windowed,    white    brick 

131 


132    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

apartment-house  that  stood  across  the 
street  from  the  home  of  Major  Buchanan, 
and  surveyed  the  long  rooms  upon  which 
he  and  his  man  Eph  had  been  expending 
their  energies  for  more  than  an  hour. 

Andrew  Sevier  sank  down  upon  the  arm 
of  a  chair  and  lighted  a  long  and  villian- 
ous  pipe.  "Trust  to  the  flowers,"  he  an- 
swered. "I  think  Phoebe  doesn't  care  for 
the  drapes  of  this  life  so  much  as  some 
women  do  and  as  this  is  for  her  birthday 
let's  have  the  flowers,  sturdy  ones  with 
stiff  stems  and  good  head  pieces." 

"That's  right,  Phoebe's  nobody's  cling- 
ing vine,"  answered  David  moodily.  "She 
doesn't  want  any  trellis  either — wish  some- 
thing would  wilt  her!  Look  here,  An- 
drew, on  the  square,  what's  the  matter 
that  I  can't  get  Phoebe?  You're  a  regular 
love  pilot  on  paper,  point  me  another 
course;  this  one  is  no  good;  I've  run  into 
a  sand  bank."  The  dark  red  forelock  on 


DAVID'S    ROSE  133 

David's  brow  was  ruffled  and  his  keen  eyes 
were  troubled,  while  his  large  sweet 
mouth  was  set  in  a  straight  firm  line.  He 
looked  very  strong,  forceful  and  deter- 
mined as  he  stopped  in  front  of  his  friend 
and  squared  himself  as  if  for  a  blow. 

Andrew  Sevier  looked  at  him  thought- 
fully for  a  few  seconds  straight  between 
the  eyes,  then  his  mouth  widened  into  an 
affectionate  smile  as  he  laid  his  hand  on 
the  sturdy  shoulder  and  said: 

"Not  a  thing  on  God's  green  earth  the 
matter  with  you,  Davie;  it's  the  modern- 
ism of  the  situation  that  you  seem  unable 
to  handle.  May  I  use  your  flower  simile? 
Once  they  grew  in  gardens  and  were 
drooping  and  sweet  and  overran  trellises, 
to  say  nothing  of  clinging  to  oak  trees, 
but  we've  developed  the  American  Beauty, 
old  man!  It  stands  stiff  and  glossy  and 
holds  its  head  up  on  its  own  stem,  the 
pride  of  the  nation!  We  can  get  them, 


though  they  come  high.  Ah,  but  they  are 
sweet !  Phoebe  is  one  of  the  most  gorgeous 
to  be  found — it  will  be  a  price  to  pay,  but 
you'll  pay  it,  David,  you'll  pay." 

"God  knows  I'm  paying  it  all  day  long 
every  day  and  have  been  paying  it  for 
ten  years.  Never  at  peace  about  her 
for  an  instant.  Protection  at  long  dis- 
tance is  no  joke.  I  can't  sleep  at  night 
until  she  telephones  me  she  is  at  home 
from  the  office  on  her  duty  nights  and  then 
I  have  to  beg  like  a  dog  for  the  wire,  just 
the  word  or  two.  She  will  overwork  and 
under  eat  and — " 

"David,"  interrupted  Sevier  thought- 
fully, "what  do  you  really  think  is  the 
matter?  Let's  get  down  to  facts  while  we 
are  about  it." 

"Do  you  know,  Andy,  lately  it  has 
dawned  upon  me  that  Phoebe  would  like 
to  dictate  a  life  policy  to  me ;  hand  me  out 
a  good,  stiff  life  job.  I  believe  she  would 


DAVID'S    ROSE  135 

marry  me  to-morrow  if  she  could  see  me 
permanently  installed  on  the  front  seat  of 
a  grocery  wagon — permanently.  And  I'll 
come  to  it  yet." 

"I  believe  you  are  right,"  laughed  An- 
drew. "She  really  glories  in  her  wage 
earning;  it's  a  phase  of  them  these  days. 
She  would  actually  hate  living  on  your 
income." 

"Don't  I  know  it?  I  suppose  she  would 
be  content  if  she  sewed  on  buttons  and  did 
the  family  wash  to  conserve  the  delivery 
wagon  income.  I  wish  she'd  marry  me  for 
love  and  then  I'd  hire  her  at  hundreds  per 
week  to  dust  around  the  house  and  cook 
pies  for  me,  gladly,  gladly." 

"We've  developed  thorns  with  our  new 
rose,  Dave,"  chuckled  Andrew  as  he  re- 
lighted his  pipe. 

"Sweet  hope  of  heaven,  yes,*'  groaned 
David.  "My  gore  drips  all  the  time  from 
the  gashes.  I  suppose  it  is  a  killing  grief 


136    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

to  her  that  I  haven't  a  star  corporation 
practise  instead  of  fooling  around  the 
criminal  court  fighting  old  Taylor  to  get 
a  square  deal  for  the  darky  rag-tag  most 
of  my  time.  But,  Andy,  it  makes  me  blaze 
house -high  to  see  the  way  he  hands  the  law 
out  to  'em.  They  can  cut  and  fight  as 
long  as  it  is  in  a  whisky  dive  and  no  in- 
dictment returned ;  but  let  one  of  'em  side- 
step an  inch  in  any  other  ignorant  pitiful 
way  and  it's  the  workhouse  and  the  county 
road  for  theirs. 

"And  the  number  of  ways  that  the  coons 
can  get  up  to  call  on  me  to  square  the  deal, 
is  amazing.  Just  look  at  the  week  I've 
had!  All  Monday  and  Tuesday  I  spent 
on  the  Darky  Country  Club  affair;  the 
poor  nigs  just  hungering  for  some  place 
to  go  off  and  act  white  in  for  a  few 
hours.  Nobody  would  sell  them  an 
acre  of  ground  near  a  car  line  and  the 
dusky  smart  set  was  about  to  get  its  light 


DAVID'S    ROSE  137 

put  out.  Jeff  and  Temple  told  me  about 
it.  What  did  little  Dave  do  but  run  around 
to  persuade  old  man  Elton  to  sell  them 
that  little  point  that  juts  out  into  the  river 
two  miles  from  town  and  just  across  from 
the  rock  quarry.  No  neighbors  to  kick  and 
the  interurban  runs  through  the  field.  It 
really  is  a  choice  spot  and  I  started  their 
subscription  with  a  hundred  or  two  and  got 
Williams  to  draw  them  some  plans  to  fix 
up  an  old  house  that  stands  on  the  bank 
for  a  club-house.  They  are  wide-mouthed 
with  joy;  but  it  sliced  two  days  to  do  it, 
which  I  might  have  spent  on  the  grocery 
wagon." 

"You  always  did  have  the  making  of  a 
philanthropist  in  you,  Dave,"  said  An- 
drew thoughtfully.  "You're  a  near-one 
at  present  speaking." 

"Philanthropist  go  hang — the  rest  of 
the  week  I  have  spent  getting  the  old 
Confeds  together  and  having  everything 


138    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

in  shape  for  the  unveiling  of  the  statue  out 
at  the  Temple  of  Arts.  I  tell  you  we  are 
going  to  have  a  turn-out.  'General  Clop- 
ton  is  coming  all  the  way  to  make  the 
dedication  speech.  Caroline  is  about  to 
bolt  and  I  have  to  steady  her  at  off  times. 
I've  promised  to  hold  her  hand  through  it 
all.  Major  is  getting  up  the  notes  for 
General  Clopton  and  he's  touching  on 
Peters  Brown  only  in  high  places.  It'll 
be  mostly  a  show-down  of  old  General 
Darrah  and  the  three  governors  I'm  think- 
ing. 

"The  Dames  of  the  Confederacy  and 
the  Art  League  are  going  to  have  entries 
on  the  program  without  number.  I  have 
been  interviewed  and  interviewed.  Why, 
even  the  august  Susie  Carrie  Snow  sent 
for  me  and  talked  high  art  and  city  beauti- 
ful to  me  until  I  could  taste  it. 

"And  all  that  sopped  up  the  rest  of  the 
week  when  I  ought  to  have  been  deliver- 


DAVID'S   ROSE  139 

ing  pork  steaks  and  string-beans  at  peo- 
ple's back  doors  to  please  Phrebe.  Money 
grubbing  doesn't  appeal  to  me  and  I 
don't  need  it,  but  from  now  on  I'm  the 
busy  grub — until  after  the  'no  man  put 
asunder'  proclamation." 

"How  you  can  manage  to  do  one  really 
public-spirited  job  after  another,  'things 
that  count,'  and  then  elude  all  the  credit 
for  them  is  more  than  I  can  understand, 
Dave,"  said  Andrew  as  he  smiled  through 
a  blue  ring  of  smoke.  "Some  day,  if  you 
don't  look  out,  you'll  be  a  leading  citizen. 
In  the  meantime  hustle  about  those  flow- 
ers. Time  flies." 

"I'll  send  them  right  up,"  said  David 
as  he  donned  his  coat  and  hat  and  took  up 
his  crop.  The  hours  David  spent  out  of 
the  saddle  were  those  of  his  indoors  occu- 
pations. "I'll  be  back  soon.  Just  fix  the 
flowers;  Eph  and  the  cook  will  do  all  the 
rest.  And  put  the  cards  on  the  table  any 


old  way.  I  want  to  sit  between  Phoebe 
and  Caroline  Darrah  Brown — well,  whose 
party  is  it?  You  can  sit  next  on  either 
side." 

"Wait  a  minute,  are — " 

"No,  I  must  hurry  and  go  brace  up 
Milly  for  a  pair  of  minutes.  She  wouldn't 
promise  to  come  until  I  insisted  on  send- 
ing a  trained  nurse  to  sit  with  old  Mammy 
Betty  and  the  babies  until  she  got  back  to 
'em.  Billy  Bob  is  as  wild  as  a  kid  about 
coming,  he  hasn't  been  anywhere  for  so 
long.  I  talked  a  week  before  I  could  per- 
suade Milly,  but  she's  got  her  glad  rags 
and  is  as  excited  as  Billy  Bob.  I  tried  to 
buy  that  boy  twin  for  Phoebe's  present 
but  Milly  said  I  had  better  get  an  old 
silver  and  amethyst  bracelet.  It's  on  my 
table  in  the  white  box.  Bye !"  and  Kildare 
departed  as  far  as  the  front  door,  but  re- 
turned to  stick  his  head  in  the  door  and 
say: 


DAVID'S   ROSE  141 

"You'd  better  put  Hob  by  Caroline 
Darrah  on  the  other  side;  he's  savage 
when  he's  crossed.  And  tack  in  Payt  op- 
posite her.  I  invited  Polly  the  Fluff  for 
you — she  is  a  debutante  and  such  a  coo- 
child  that  she'll  just  suit  a  poet." 

He  dodged  just  in  time  to  escape  the 
lighted  pipe  that  was  hurled  upon  him, 
and  he  couldn't  have  suspected  that  a  hast- 
ily-formed plan  to  place  himself  opposite 
Caroline  Darrah  had  gone  up  in  the  smoke 
that  followed  the  death  of  life  in  Andrew's 
pipe. 

Then  following  the  urgent  instructions 
of  David,  Andrew  began  to  right  up  the 
papers  in  his  den  which  opened  off  the  liv- 
ing-room. His  desk  was  littered  with 
manuscript,  for  the  three  days  past  had 
been  golden  ones  and  he  had  written  un- 
der a  strong  impetus.  The  thought  sud- 
denly shot  through  him  that  he  had  been 
writing  as  he  had  once  read,  to  eyes  whose 


142    ANDREW    THE   GLAD 

"depths  on  depths  of  luster"  had  misted 
and  glowed  and  answered  as  he  turned  his 
pages  in  the  twilight.  Can  ice  in  a  man's 
breast  burn  like  fire?  Andrew  crushed  the 
sheets  and  thrust  them  into  a  drawer. 

Then  came  Eph  and  the  cook  to  lay  the 
cloth  in  the  dining-room,  and  a  man 
brought  up  the  flowers.  For  a  time  he 
worked  away  with  a  strange  excitement  in 
his  veins. 

When  they  had  finished  and  he  was 
alone  in  the  apartment  he  walked  slowly 
through  the  rooms.  Where  David  hap- 
pened to  keep  his  household  gods  had  been 
home  to  Andrew  for  many  years.  His 
books  were  in  the  dark  Flemish  oak  cases 
and  some  of  the  prints  on  the  walls  were 
his.  Most  of  the  rugs  he  had  picked  up  in 
his  travels  upon  which  his  commissions  led 
him,  and  some  interesting  skins  had  been 
added  since  his  jungle  experiences.  It  was 
all  dark  and  rich  and  right-toned — the 


DAVID'S    ROSE  143 

home  of  a  gentleman.  And  David  was 
like  the  rooms,  right-toned  and  clean. 

Andrew  found  himself  wondering  if 
there  would  be  men  like  David  in  the  next 
generation,  happy  David  with  his  cavalier 
nature  and  modern  wit.  The  steady  stream 
of  wealth  that  was  pouring  into  the  South, 
down  her  mountain  sides  and  welling  up 
under  her  pasture  lands,  would  it  bring 
in  its  train  death  to  the  purity  and  sanity 
of  her  social  institutions?  Would  swollen 
fortunes  bring  congestion  of  standards 
and  grossness  of  morals?  Suddenly  he 
smiled  for  Billy  Bob  and  Milly  and  a  lot 
of  the  industrious  young  folks  seemed  to 
answer  him.  He  had  found  eleven  little 
new  cousins  on  the  scene  of  action  when 
he  had  returned  after  five  years — clear- 
eyed  young  Anglo-Americans,  ready  to 
take  charge  of  the  future. 

And  he,  what  was  his  place  in  the  build- 
ing of  his  native  city?  His  trained  intelli- 


144    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

gence,  his  wide  experience,  his  genius  were 
being  given  to  cutting  a  canal  thousands 
of  miles  away  while  the  streets  of  his  own 
home  were  being  cut  up  and  undermined 
by  half -trained  bunglers.  The  beautiful 
forest  suburbs  were  being  planned  and 
plotted  by  money-mad  schemers  who  nei- 
ther pre-visioned,  nor  cared  to,  the  city  of 
the  future  which  was  to  be  a  great  gateway 
of  the  nation  to  its  Panama  world-artery. 
He  knew  how  to  value  the  force  of  a  man 
of  his  kind,  with  his  reputation  and  influ- 
ence, and  he  would  gage  just  what  he 
would  be  able  to  do  for  the  city  with  the 
municipal  backing  he  could  command  if 
he  set  his  shoulder  to  the  wheel. 

A  talk  he  had  had  with  the  major  a  day 
or  two  ago  came  back  to  him.  The  old  fel- 
low's eyes  had  glowed  as  he  told  him  the 
plan  they  had  been  obliged  to  abandon  in 
the  early  seventies  for  a  boulevard  from 
the  capitol  to  the  river  because  of  the  lack 


DAVID'S   ROSE  145 

of  city  construction  funds.  Andrew's  own 
father  had  formulated  the  plan  and  gone 
before  the  city  fathers  with  it,  and  for  a 
time  there  had  been  hope  of  its  accom- 
plishment. And  the  major  had  declared 
emphatically  that  a  time  was  coming  when 
the  city  would  want  and  ask  for  it  again. 
That  other  Andrew  Sevier  of  the  major's 
youth  had  conceived  the  scheme;  the  ma- 
jor had  repeated  the  fact  slowly.  Did  he 
mean  it  as  a  call  to  him? 

Andrew's  eyes  glowed.  He  could  see  it 
all,  with  its  difficulties  and  its  possibilities. 
He  rested  his  clenched  hand  on  the  table 
and  the  artist  in  him  had  the  run  of  his 
pulses.  He  could  see  it  all  and  he  knew 
in  all  humbleness  that  he  could  construct 
the  town  as  no  other  man  of  his  generation 
would  be  able  to  do;  the  beautiful  hill- 
rimmed  city ! 

And  just  as  potent  he  felt  the  call  of 
the  half-awakened  spirit  of  art  and  letters 


that  had  lain  among  them  poverty-bound 
for  forty  reconstructive  years.  For  what 
had  he  been  so  richly  dowered?  To  sing 
his  songs  from  the  camp  of  a  wanderer 
and  write  his  plays  with  a  foreign  flavor, 
when  he  might  voice  his  own  people  in  the 
world  of  letters,  his  own  with  their  back- 
ground of  traditions  and  tragedy  and 
their  foreground  of  rough-hewn  possibili- 
ties? Was  not  the  meed  of  his  fame,  small 
or  large,  theirs? 

Suddenly  the  tension  snapped  and  sad- 
ness chilled  through  his  veins.  Here  there 
would  always  be  that  memory  which 
brought  its  influences  of  bitterness  and  de- 
pression to  kill  the  creative  in  him.  The 
old  mad  desire  to  be  gone  and  away  from 
it  beat  up  into  his  blood,  then  stilled  on  the 
instant.  What  was  it  that  caught  his 
breath  in  his  breast  at  the  thought  of  exile? 
Could  he  go  now,  could — 

Just  at  this  moment  he  was  interrupted 


DAVID'S   ROSE  147 

by  Mrs.  Matilda  who  came  hurrying  into 
the  room  with  ribbons  and  veil  aflutter. 
She  evidently  had  only  the  moment  to  stay 
and  she  took  in  his  decorative  schemes  with 
the  utmost  delight. 

"Andrew,"  she  said  with  enthusiasm  in 
every  tone,  "it  is  all  lovely,  lovely.  You 
boys  are  wonders!  These  bachelor  estab- 
lishments are  threatening  to  make  women 
wonder  what  they  were  born  for.  And 
what  do  you  think?  The  major  is  coming! 
The  first  place  he  has  gone  this  winter — 
and  he  wants  to  sit  between  Phoebe  and 
Caroline  Darrah.  I  just  ran  over  to  tell 
you.  Good-by!  We  must  both  dress." 

And  Andrew  smiled  as  he  rearranged 
the  place-cards. 

And  it  happened  that  in  more  ways  than 
one  David  Kildare  found  himself  the  per- 
turbed host.  He  rushed  home  and  dressed 
with  lightning-like  rapidity  and  whirled 
away  in  the  limousine  for  Milly  and  Billy 


148    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

Bob.  He  went  for  them  early,  for  he  had 
bargained  to  come  for  Phoebe  as  late  as 
possible  so  as  to  give  her  time  to  reckon 
with  her  six-thirty  freckled-faced  devil  at 
the  office.  But  at  the  Overtons  he  found 
confusion  confounded. 

"I'm  so  sorry,  David,"  Milly  almost 
sobbed,  "but  Mammy  Betty's  daughter 
has  run  away  and  got  married  and  she  has 
gone  to  see  about  it,  and  the  trained 
nurse  can't  come.  There  has  been  an  awful 
wreck  up  the  road  and  all  the  doctors  in 
town  have  gone  and  taken  all  the  nurses 
with  them.  She  didn't  consider  the  babies 
serious,  so  she  just  had  some  one  telephone 
at  the  last  minute  that  she  had  gone.  I 
can't  go;  but  please  make  Billy  go  with 
you!  There  is  no  use — "  and  she  turned 
to  Billy  Bob  who  stood  by  in  pathetically 
gorgeous  array,  but  firm  in  his  intention 
not  to  desert  the  home  craft. 

"We  just  can't  make  it,  Dave,  old  man," 


DAVID'S    ROSE  149 

he  said  manfully,  as  he  caught  his  tearful 
wife's  outstretched  hand  in  his.  "Go  on 
before  we  both  cry!" 

"Go  on,  nothing — with  Milly  looking 
like  a  lovely  pink  apple-blossom !  You've 
got  to  come.  I  wouldn't  dare  face  Phoebe 
without  you.  It's  the  whole  thing  to  her 
to  have  you  there.  It's  been  so  long  since 
you've  gladded  with  the  crowd  once  and 
it's  her  birthday  and — "  David's  voice 
trailed  off  into  a  perfect  wail. 

"But  what  can  we  do?"  faltered  Milly, 
dissolved  at  the  mention  of  the  new  frock. 
"We  certainly  can't  leave  them  and  we 
can't  take  them  and — " 

"Glory,  that's  the  idea,  let's  take  the 
whole  bunch!"  exclaimed  David  with  radi- 
ant countenance.  "I  ought  to  have  invited 
them  in  the  first  place.  Come  on  and  let's 
begin  to  bundle!"  and  he  made  a  dive  in 
the  direction  of  the  door  of  the  nursery. 

"Oh,  no,  indeed  we  can't!"  gasped  Milly 


150    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

while  Billy  Bob  stood  stricken,  unable  to 
utter  a  word. 

"I'll  show  you  whether  we  will  or  not," 
answered  David.  "Catch  me  losing  a 
chance  like  this  to  ring  one  on  Phoebe  for 
several  reasons.  Hurry  up!"  and  as  he 
spoke  he  had  lifted  little  Mistake  from 
his  cot  and  was  dextrously  winding  him  in 
his  blanket.  The  youngster  opened  his 
big  dewy  eyes  and  chuckled  at  the  sight  of 
his  side  partner,  David  Kildare. 

"That's  all  right,  he's  all  for  his  Uncle 
Davie.  Here,  you  take  him  Billy  Bob  and 
I'll  help  Milly  roll  up  the  twins.  She  can 
bring  down  Crimie  while  I  bring  them," 
and  as  he  spoke  he  began  a  rapid  swathing 
of  the  two  limp  little  bodies  from  the  white 
crib. 

"But,  David,"  gasped  Milly,  "it  is  im- 
possible! They  are  not  dressed — they  will 
take  cold—" 

"The  limousine  is  as  hot  as  smoke — can't 


DAVID'S    ROSE  151 

hurt  'em — plenty  of  blankets,"  with  which 
he  thrust  the  nodding  young  Crimie  into 
her  arms  and  lifted  carefully  the  large 
bundle  which  contained  both  twins  in  his 
own.  "Go  on!"  he  commanded  the  par- 
alyzed pair.  "I  will  pull  the  door  to  with 
my  free  foot."  And  he  actually  forced  the 
helpless  parents  of  the  four  to  embark 
with  him  on  this  most  unusual  of  adven- 
tures. 

When  they  were  all  seated  in  the  car 
Milly  looked  at  Billy  Bob  and  burst  into  a 
gale  of  hysterical  laughter.  But  Billy 
Bob's  spunk  was  up  by  this  time  and  he 
was  all  on  the  side  of  the  resourceful 
David. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked  brazenly.  "Nine- 
tenths  of  the  people  in  the  world  take  the 
kids  with  them  on  all  the  frolics  they  get, 
why  not  we?  They  know  it's  all  right,  they 
haven't  objected."  And  indeed  there  had 
not  been  a  single  chirp  from  any  of  the 


152    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

swathings.  OBig  Brother  was  the  only  one 
awake  and  he  was,  as  usual,  entranced  at 
the  very  sight  of  his  Uncle  David,  who 
held  the  twins  with  practised  skill  on  his 
knees. 

"Now,"  he  said  juhilantly,  "don't  any- 
body warn  Phoebe  and  I'm  going  to  put 
them  on  the  big  divan  with  her  presents. 
You'll  see  something  crash,  I'm  think- 
ing." 

And  it  was  worth  it  all  when  Phoebe  did 
see  her  unexpected  guests.  Big  Brother, 
divested  of  his  blanket  and  clad  in  a  pink 
Teddy  Bear  garment,  sat  bolt  upright  in 
the  center  of  the  divan,  and  Crimie  lay 
snuggled  against  him  with  his  thumb  in 
his  mouth  and  entranced  eyes  on  the  bril- 
liant chandelier.  The  twins  were  nestled 
contentedly  down  in  the  corner  together 
like  two  little  kittens  in  a  basket.  Before 
them  knelt  Polly  with  one  finger  clasped 
by  the  one  whose  golden  fuzz  declared  her 


DAVID'S   ROSE  153 

to  be  Little  Sister,  while  Caroline  Darrah 
leaned  over  Big  Brother  who  was  finger- 
ing a  string  of  sapphires  that  fell  from 
her  neck,  with  obvious  delight.  The  rest 
of  the  party  stood  in  an  admiring  and  up- 
roarious circle. 

"Why,"  exclaimed  Phoebe  in  blank  as- 
tonishment, "why  David  Kildare !" 

"You  said  you  wanted  your  most  inti- 
mate friends  to-night,  Phoebe,  and  here 
they  are,"  he  answered  with  pride  in  every 
tone  of  his  voice. 

"Oh,  dearie,"  said  Milly  as  she  clasped 
Phoebe's  hand,  "we  couldn't  come  without 
them — everything  happened  wrong.  I 
know  it's  awful  and  I  ought  to  take  them 
right  back  now  and — " 

"David  Kildare,"  said  Phoebe  as  she  di- 
vined in  an  instant  the  whole  situation,  "I 
love — I  love  you  for  doing  it,"  and  she 
sank  on  her  knees  by  Caroline.  Mistake 
let  go  the  chain  and  bobbed  forward  to 


154,    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

bestow  a  moist  kiss  on  this,  his  friend  of 
long  standing;  and  as  he  chuckled  and 
snuggled  his  little  nose  under  her  white 
chin  Phoebe's  echo  was  a  sigh  of  such  abso- 
lute rapture  that  the  whole  circle  shouted 
with  glee. 

And  late  as  it  was  dinner  was  an- 
nounced three  times  before  the  host  or  the 
guests  could  be  persuaded  to  think  of 
food.  And  not  until  David's  bed  was 
made  ready  for  the  little  guests  did  they 
begin  to  make  their  way  into  the  dining- 
room.  It  was  Andrew  who  finally  insisted 
on  carrying  the  babes  away  and  tucking 
them  in — only  Caroline  went  with  him 
with  Little  Sister  in  her  arms  and  laid  her 
gently  on  the  pillow.  She  refused  to  lift 
her  eyes  to  him  for  so  much  as  a  half-sec- 
ond until  he  drew  her  chair  from  the  table 
for  her;  but  then  her  shy  glance  was  deep 
with  innocent  tenderness. 

"Now,"  said  the  major  as  they  settled 


DAVID'S    ROSE  155 

laughingly  into  their  places,  "everybody's 
glass  high  to  the  silent  guests  1"  And  they 
drank  his  toast  with  enthusiasm. 

"And,"  added  David  Kildare  as  he  set 
down  his  glass,  "they  needn't  be  'silent 
guests'  unless  it  suits  them.  When  they 
want  to  rough-house  they  know  Uncle 
David's  is  the  place  to  come  to  do  it  in." 

"But  let's  hope  they  won't  want  to, 
David,"  laughed  Milly,  radiant  with  ex- 
citement. 

"I  tell  you  what  let's  do,"  said  the  enliv- 
ened Hobson  from  the  coveted  seat  next 
Caroline  Darrah  Brown,  "let's  all  give 
them  hard  sleeping  suggestions,  all  at  the 
same  time.  .  .  .  Maybe  they  won't 
wake  up  for  a  week." 

"Andrew,"  said  Mrs.  Buchanan  as  she 
looked  with  delight  in  his  direction,  "these 
are  delicious  things  you  and  David  have 
to  eat.  I  am  so  glad  you  are  well  again 
and  can  enjoy  them." 


156    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"Better  go  slow,  Andy,"  called  David 
from  down  the  table.  "Sure  you  don't 
need  a  raw  egg?  Phoebe  has  a  couple  up; 
her  sleeve  here  she  can  lend  you.  The  ma- 
jor has  persuaded  her  to  take  a  bit  of  duck 
and  some  asparagus  and  a  brandied  peach 
and—" 

"David  Kildare,"  said  Phoebe  in  a  coolly 
dangerous  voice,  "I  will  get  even  with  you 
for  that  if  it  takes  me  a  week.  This  is  the 
first  thing  I  have  had  to  eat  since  meal  be- 
fore last  and  I  lost  two  and  a  half  pounds 
last  week.  So  I'll  see  that  you — " 

"Please,  please,  Phoebe,  I'll  be  good! 
Just  let  me  off  this  time.  I'm  giddy  from 
looking  at  you!"  And  before  a  delighted 
audience  David  Kildare  abased  himself. 

"Anyway,  I've  got  news  to  relate,"  he 
hastened  to  offer  by  way  of  propitiation. 
"What  do  you  think  has  happened  to  An- 
drew? I  didn't  promise  not  to  tell,"  he 
drawled,  prolonging  the  agony  to  its  limit. 


DAVID'S    ROSE  157 

"Hurry,  David,  do!"  exclaimed  Phoebe 
with  suspended  fork.  Caroline  leaned  for- 
ward eagerly,  while  Andrew  began  a 
laughing  protest. 

"It's  only  that  Hetherton  is  going  to 
put  the  great  Mainwright  on  in  Andy's 
new  play  in  the  fall — letter  came  to-day. 
Now,  doesn't  he  shove  his  pen  to  some 
form — some?"  he  demanded  as  he  beamed 
upon  his  friend  with  the  greatest  pride. 

"Oh,"  said  Caroline  Darrah,  "Main- 
wright is  great  enough  to  do  it — almost!" 

'A  pulse  of  joy  shot  through  Andrew  as 
her  excited  eyes  gleamed  into  his.  Of  them 
all  she  and  the  major  only  had  read  his 
play  and  could  congratulate  him  really. 
He  had  turned  to  her  instantly  when  Da- 
vid had  made  his  announcement,  and  she 
had  answered  him  as  instantly  with  her 
delight. 

"And  Cousin  Andy,"  asked  Polly  who 
sat  next  to  him,  "will  I  have  to  cry  at  the 


158    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

third  act?  Please  don't  make  me,  it's  so 
unbecoming.  Why  can't  people  do  all  the 
wonderful  things  they  do  in  plays  with- 
out being  so  mussy  ?" 

"Child,"  jeered  David  Kildare  as  they 
all  laughed,  "don't  you  know  a  heart-throb 
when  you're  up  against  it — er — beg  par- 
don— I  mean  to  say  that  plays  are  sold  at 
so  much  a  sob.  Seems  to  me  you  get  wise 
very  slowly."  Polly  pouted  and  young 
Boston  who  sat  next  her  went  red  up  to  his 
hair. 

"Better  let  me  look  over  the  contracts 
for  you,  Andrew,"  said  Tom  Cantrell  with 
friendly  interest  in  his  shrewd  eyes.  If 
the  material  was  all  Tom  had  to  offer  his 
friends  he  did  that  with  generosity  and 
sincerity. 

So  until  the  roses  fell  into  softly  wilt- 
ing heaps  and  the  champagne  broke  in  the 
glasses  they  sat  and  talked  and  laughed. 
Pitched  battles  raged  up  and  down  the 


DAVID'S    ROSE  159 

table  and  there  were  perfect  whirlpools  of 
argument  arid  protestation.  Phoebe  was 
her  most  brilliant  self  and  her  laughter 
rang  out  rich  and  joyous  at  the  slightest 
provocation.  The  major  delighted  in  a 
give  and  take  encounter  with  her  and  their 
wit  drew  sparks  from  every  direction. 

"No,  Major,"  she  said  as  the  girls  rose 
with  Mrs.  Buchanan  after  the  last  toast 
had  been  drunk,  "toast  my  wit,  toast  my 
courage,  toast  my  loyalty,  but  my  beauty 
— ah,  aren't  women  learning  not  to  use  it 
as  an  asset?" 

As  she  spoke  she  stretched  out  one  white 
hand  and  bare  rounded  arm  to  him  in  en- 
treaty. Phoebe  was  more  lovely  than  she 
knew  as  she  flung  her  challenge  into  the 
camp  of  her  friends  and  they  all  felt  the 
call  in  her  dauntless  dawn-gray  eyes.  Her 
unconsciousness  amounted  to  a  positive 
audacity. 

"Phcebe,"  answered  the  major  as  he  rose 


160    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

and  stood  beside  her  chair,  "all  those 
things  stir  at  times  our  cosmic  conscious- 
ness, but  beauty  is  the  bouquet  to  the  wom- 
an-wine— and  you  can't  help  it!" 

"How  do  you  old  fellows  down  at  the 
bivouac  really  feel  about  this  conduit 
business,  Major,"  said  Tom  Cantrell  as 
he  moved  his  chair  close  around  by  the  ma- 
jor's after  the  last  swish  and  rustle  had 
left  the  men  alone  in  the  dining-room  for 
a  few  moments.  "Just  a  question  starts 
father  fire-eating,  so  I  thought  I  would 
ask  you  to  put  me  next.  It's  up  in  the  city 
council." 

"Tom,"  answered  the  major  as  he  blew 
a  ring  of  smoke  between  himself  and  the 
shrewd  eyes,  "what  on  earth  have  a  lot  of 
broken-down  old  Confederate  soldiers  got 
to  do  with  the  management  of  the  affairs 
of  the  city?  You  young  men  are  to  attend 
to  that — give  us  a  seat  in  the  sun  and  our 
pipes — of  peace." 


DAVID'S   ROSE  161 

"Oh,  hang,  Major!  Look  at  the  way 
you  old  fellows  swung  that  gas  contract 
in  the  council.  You  'sit  in  the  sun'  all  right 
but  they  all  know  that  the  bivouac  pulls 
the  plurality  vote  in  this  city  when  it 
chooses — and  they  jump  when  you  speak. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  about  this  con- 
duit?" 

"Is  it  pressing?  Not  much  being  said 
about  it." 

"That's  it — they  want  to  make  it  a  sneak 
in.  Mayor  Potts  is  pushing  hard  and  we 
know  he's  just  the  judge's  catspaw. 
Judge  Taylor  owns  the  city  council  since 
that  last  election  and  I  believe  he  has 
bought  the  board  of  public  works  out- 
right. The  conduit  is  just  a  whisky  ring 
scheme  to  hand  out  jobs  before  the  judge's 
election.  They  have  got  to  keep  the  crim- 
inal court  fixed,  Major,  for  this  town  is 
running  wide  open  day  and  night — with 
prohibition  voted  six  months  ago.  They've 


162    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

got  to  keep  Taylor  on  the  bench.  What 
do  you  say?" 

"Well,"  answered  the  major,  beetling 
his  brows  over  his  keen  eyes,  "I  suppose 
there  is  no  doubt  that  Taylor  is  machine- 
made.  He's  the  real  blind  tiger,  and  Potts 
is  his  striped  kitten.  I  understand  he  lost' 
four-fifths  of  the  'open'  indictments  that 
the  grand  jury  'found'  on  their  last  sit- 
ting. The  whisky  men  are  going  to  sell 
as  long  as  the  criminal  court  protects  them, 
of  course.  Let's  let  them  cut  that  conduit 
deeper  into  the  public  mind  before  they 
begin  on  the  streets." 

"I'm  looking  for  a  nasty  show-down  for 
this  town  before  long,  Major,  if  there  are 
men  enough  in  it  to  call  the  machine." 

"Tom,"  answered  the  major  as  he  blew 
a  last  ring  from  his  cigar,  "a  town  is  in  a 
rotten  fix  when  the  criminal  court  is  a 
mockery.  Let's  go  interrupt  the  women's 
dimity  talk." 


DAVID'S    ROSE  163 

And  it  was  quite  an  hour  later  that 
Milly  decided  in  an  alarmed  hurry  that 
she  and  the  babies  must  take  their  im- 
mediate departure.  David  maneuvered 
manfully  to  send  them  home  in  his  car  and 
to  have  Phoebe  wait  and  let  him  take  her 
home  later — alone.  But  Phcebe  insisted 
upon  going  with  Milly  and  Billy  Bob  and 
the  youngsters,  and  the  reflection  that  the 
distance  from  the  unfashionable  quarter 
inhabited  by  the  little  family,  back  to 
Phoebe's  down-town  apartment  was  very 
short,  depressed  him  to  the  point  of  de- 
fiance— almost. 

However,  he  packed  them  all  in  and 
then  as  skilfully  unpacked  them  at  the 
door  of  their  little  home.  He  carried  up 
the  twins  and  even  remained  a  moment  to 
help  in  their  unswathing  before  he  de- 
scended to  the  waiting  car  and  Phcebe.  As 
he  gave  the  word  and  swung  in  beside  her, 
David  Kildare  heaved  a  deep  and  raptur- 


164 

ous  sigh.  It  was  so  much  to  the  good  to 
have  her  to  himself  for  the  short  whirl 
through  the  desolated  winter  streets.  It 
was  a  situation  to  be  made  the  most  of  for 
it  came  very  seldom. 

He  turned  to  speak  to  her  in  the  half 
light  and  found  her  curled  up  in  the  cor- 
ner with  her  soft  cheek  resting  against  the 
cushions.  Her  attitude  was  one  of  utter 
weariness,  but  she  smiled  without  opening 
her  eyes  as  she  nestled  closer  against  the 
rough  leather. 

"Tired,  peach-bud?"  he  asked  softly. 
One  of  the  gifts  of  the  high  gods  to  Da- 
vid Kildare  was  a  voice  with  a  timbre  suit- 
able to  the  utmost  tenderness,  when  the 
occasion  required. 

"Yes,"  answered  Phoebe  drowsily,  "but 
so  happy!  It  was  all  lovely,  David."  Her 
pink-palmed  hand  lay  relaxed  on  her  knee. 
David  lifted  it  cautiously  in  both  his 


DAVID'S    ROSE  165 

strong  warm  ones  and  bent  over  it,  his 
heart  ahammer  with  trepidation.  For  as 
a  general  thing  neither  the  environment 
nor  his  mood  had  much  influence  in  the 
softening  way  on  Phoebe's  cool  aloofness, 
but  this  once  some  sympathetic  chord  must 
have  vibrated  in  her  heart  for  she  clasped 
her  fingers  around  his  and  received  the 
caress  on  their  pink  tips  with  opening  eyes 
that  smiled  with  a  hint  of  tenderness. 

"David,"  she  said  with  a  low  laugh, 
"I'm  too  tired  to  be  stern  with  you  to- 
night, but  I'll  hold  you  responsible  to- 
morrow— for  everything.  Here  we  are; 
do  see  if  that  red-headed  devil  is  sitting 
on  the  door-step  and  tell  him  that  there  is 
— no — more  copy — if  I  am  a  half -column 
short.  And,  David,"  she  drew  their 
clasped  hands  nearer  and  laid  her  free  one 
over  both  his  as  the  car  drew  up  to  the 
curb,  "you — are — a — dear!  Here's  my 


166    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

key  in  my  muff.  To-morrow  at  five?  I 
don't  know — you  will  have  to  phone  me. 
Good  night,  and  thank  you — dear.  Yes 
— good  night  again  I" 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS 

"AND  then,  Major,  hell  broke  loose!  Dave 
stood  up  and — "  Tom  Cantrell's  eyes 
snapped  and  he  slashed  with  his  crop  at 
the  bright  andirons  that  held  the  flamed 
logs. 

"No,  Major,  it  wasn't  hell  that  broke 
up,  it  was  something  inside  me.  I  felt  it 
smash.  For  a  moment  I  didn't  grasp 
what  Taylor  was  saying.  It  sounded  so 
like  the  ravings  of  an  insane  phonograph 
that  I  was  for  being  amused,  but  when  I 
found  that  he  was  actually  advising  the 
mayor  to  refuse  our  committee  the  use 
of  the  hay  market  for  a  bivouac  during 
the  Confederate  reunion,  I  just  got  up 
167 


168    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

and  took  his  speech  and  fed  it  to  him  raw. 
I  saw  red  with  a  touch  of  purple  and  I 
didn't  know  I  was  on  my  feet  and — " 

"Major,"  interrupted  Andrew  Sevier, 
his  eyes  bright  as  those  of  Kildare  and  his 
quiet  voice  under  perfect  control,  "Judge 
Taylor's  exact  words  were  that  it  seemed 
inadvisable  to  turn  over  property  belong- 
ing to  the  city  for  the  use  of  parties  that 
could  in  no  way  be  held  responsible.  He 
elucidated  his  excuse  by  saying  that  the 
Confederate  soldiers  were  so  old  now  that 
they  were  better  off  at  home  than  parad- 
ing the  streets  and  inciting  rebellious  feel- 
ings in  the  children,  throwing  the  city  into 
confusion  by  their  disorderly  conduct 
and—" 

"That's  all  he  said,  Major,  that's  all.  I 
was  on  my  feet  then  and  all  that  needs  to 
be  said  and  done  to  him  was  said  and  done 
right  there.  I  said  it  and  Phoebe  and  Mrs. 
Peyton  Kendrick  did  it  as  they  walked 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS     169 

right  past  him  and  out  of  the  chamber  of 
commerce  hall  of  committees  while  he  was 
trying  to  answer  me.  That  broke  up  the 
meeting  and  he  can't  be  found  this  morn- 
ing. Cap  has  had  Tom  looking  for  him. 
I  think  when  we  find  him  we  will  have  a 
few  more  words  of  remonstrance  with 
him!"  said  Dave  quietly.  And  he  stood 
straight  and  tall  before  the  major,  and  as 
he  threw  back  his  head  he  was  most  com- 
manding. There  was  an  expression  of 
power  in  the  face  of  David  Kildare  that 
the  major  had  never  seen  there  before. 

He  balanced  his  glasses  in  his  hands  a 
moment  and  looked  keenly  at  the  four 
young  men  lined  up  before  him.  They 
made  a  very  forceful  typification  of  the 
new  order  of  things  and  were  rather  mag- 
nificent in  their  defense  of  the  old.  The 
major's  voice  tightened  in  his  throat  be- 
fore he  could  say  what  they  were  waiting 
to  hear. 


170    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"Boys,"  he  said,  and  his  old  face  lit  with 
one  of  its  rare  smiles,  "there  were  live 
sparks  in  these  gray  ashes — or  we  could 
not  have  bred  you.  I'm  thinking  you, 
yourselves,  justify  the  existence  of  us  old 
Johnnies  and  give  us  a  clear  title  to  live 
a  little  while  longer,  reunite  once  a  year, 
sing  the  old  songs,  speechify,  parade, 
bivouac  a  few  more  times  together — and 
be  as  disorderly  as  we  damn  please,  in 
this  or  any  other  city's  hay  market.  Tom, 
telephone  Cap  to  go  straight  to  the  bivouac 
headquarters  and  have  them  get  ready  to 
get  out  a  special  edition  of  the  Gray 
Picket.  If  reports  of  this  matter  are  sent 
out  over  the  South  without  immediate  and 
drastic  refutations  there  will  be  a  con- 
flagration of  thousands  of  old  fire-eaters. 
They  will  never  live  through  the  strain. 
Andrew,  take  David  up  to  your  rooms, 
send  for  a  stenographer  and  get  together 
as  much  of  that  David  Kildare  speech  as 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS     171 

you  can.  Hobson,  get  hold  of  the  stenog- 
rapher of  the  city  council  and  get  his 
report  of  both  Taylor's  and  Potts' 
speeches.  Choke  it  out  of  him  for  I  sus- 
pect they  have  both  attempted  to  have 
them  destroyed." 

"Don't  you  see,  Major,  don't  you  see, 
he  tried  to  make  a  play  to  the  masses  of 
protecting  the  city's  property  and  the 
city's  law  and  order,  but  he  jumped  into  a 
hornet's  nest?  We  managed  to  keep  it 
all  out  of  the  morning  paper  but  some- 
thing is  sure  to  creep  in.  Hadn't  we  bet- 
ter have  a  conference  with  the  editors?" 
Tom  was  a  solid  quantity  to  be  reckoned 
with  in  a  stress  that  called  for  keenness  of 
judgment  rather  than  emotion. 

"Ask  them  for  a  conference  in  the  edi- 
torial rooms  of  the  Gray  Picket  at  two- 
thirty,  Tom,"  answered  the  major.  "In 
the  meantime  I'll  draft  an  editorial  for  the 


172    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

special  edition.  We  must  come  out  with 
it  in  the  morning  at  all  odds." 

In  a  few  moments  the  echo  of  their  steps 
over  the  polished  floors  and  the  ring  of 
their  voices  had  died  away  and  the  major 
was  once  more  alone  in  his  quiet  library. 
He  laid  aside  his  books  and  drew  his  chair 
up  to  the  table  and  began  to  make  prep- 
arations for  his  editorial  utterances.  His 
rampant  grizzled  forelock  stood  straight 
up  and  his  jaws  were  squared  and  grim. 
He  paused  and  was  in  the  act  of  calling 
Jeff  to  summon  Phoebe  over  the  wire  when 
the  curtains  parted  and  she  stood  on  the 
threshold.  The  major  never  failed  to  ex- 
perience a  glow  of  pride  when  Phoebe  ap- 
peared before  him  suddenly.  She  was  a 
very  clear-eyed,  alert,  poised  individuality, 
with  the  freshness  of  the  early  morning 
breezes  about  her. 

"My  dear,"  he  said  without  any  kind  of 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS     173 

preliminary  greeting,  "what  do  you  make 
of  the  encounter  between  David  Kildare 
and  Julge  Taylor?  The  boys  have  been 
here,  but  I  want  your  account  of  it  before 
I  begin  to  take  action  in  the  matter." 

"It  was  the  most  dastardly  thing  I  ever 
heard,  Major,"  said  Phoebe  quietly  with 
a  deep  note  in  her  voice.  "For  one  mo- 
ment I  sat  stunned.  The  long  line  of  vet- 
erans as  I  saw  them  last  year  at  the  reun- 
ion, old  and  gray,  limping  some  of  them, 
but  glory  in  their  bright  faces,  some  of 
them  singing  and  laughing,  came  back  to 
me.  I  thought  my  heart  would  burst  at 
the  insult  to  them  and  to — us,  their  child- 
ren. But  when  David  rose  from  his 
chair  beside  me  I  drew  a  long  breath. 
I  wish  you  could  have  heard  him  and  seen 
him.  He  was  stately  and  courteous — and 
he  said  it  all.  He  voiced  the  love  and  the 
reverence  that  is  in  all  our  hearts  for  them. 
It  was  a  very  dignified  forceful  speech — 


174.    ANDREW   THE    GLAD 

and  David  made  it!"  Phoebe  stood  close 
against  the  table  and  for  a  moment  veiled 
her  tear-starred  eyes  from  the  major's 
keen  glance. 

"Phoebe,"  he  said  after  a  moment's  si- 
lence, "I  sometimes  think  the  world  lacks 
a  standard  by  which  to  measure  some  of 
her  vaster  products.  Perhaps  you  and  I 
have  just  explored  the  heart  of  David  Kil- 
dare  so  far.  But  a  heart  as  fine  as  his  isn't 
going  to  pump  fool  blood  into  any  man's 
brain — eh?" 

"Sometimes  and  about  some  things,  you 
do  me  a  great  injustice,  Major,"  answered 
Phoebe  slowly,  with  a  serious  look  into  the 
keen  eyes  bent  upon  hers.  "Of  all  the 
'glad  crowd',  as  David  calls  us,  I  am  the 
only  woman  who  comes  directly  in  con- 
tact with  the  struggling,  working,  hand- 
to-hand  fight  of  life,  and  I  can't  help  let- 
ting it  affect  me  in  my  judgment  of — of 
us.  I  can't  forget  it  when — when  I 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS     175 

amuse  myself  or  let  David  amuse  me.  I 
seem  to  belong  with  them  and  not  in  the 
life  he  would  make  for  me ;  yet  you  know 
I  care — but  if  you  are  going  to  get  out 
that  extra  edition  you  must  get  to  work. 
I  will  sit  here  and  get  up  my  one  o'clock 
notes  for  the  imp,  and  if  you  need  me, 
tell  me  so." 

The  major  bestowed  a  slow  quizzical 
smile  upon  her  and  took  up  his  pen.  For 
an  hour  they  both  wrote  rapidly  with  now 
a  quick  question  from  the  major  and  a 
concise  answer  from  Phoebe,  or  a  short  de- 
bate over  the  wording  of  one  of  his  sen- 
tences or  paragraphs.  The  editorial  minds 
of  the  graybeard  and  the  girl  were  of 
much  the  same  quality  and  they  had  writ- 
ten together  for  many  years.  The  major 
had  gone  far  in  the  molding  of  Phoebe's 
keen  wit. 

"Why,  here  you  are,  Phoebe,"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Buchanan  as  she  hurried 


into  the  room  just  as  Phoebe  was  finish- 
ing some  of  her  last  paragraphs,  "Caroline 
and  I  have  been  telephoning  everywhere 
for  you.  Do  come  and  motor  out  to  the 
Country  Club  with  us  for  lunch.  David 
and  Andrew  left  some  partridges  there 
yesterday  as  they  came  from  hunting  on 
Old  Harpeth,  to  be  grilled  for  us  to-day. 
You  are  going  out  there  to  play  bridge 
with  Mrs.  Shelby's  guest  from  Charleston 
at  three,  so  please  come  with  us  now!" 

She  was  all  eagerness  and  she  rested  one 
plump,  persuasive  little  hand  on  Phoebe's 
arm.  To  Mrs.  Matilda,  any  time  that 
Phoebe  could  be  persuaded  to  frolic  was 
one  of  undimmed  joy. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Matilda,"  said  the  major, 
as  he  smiled  at  her  with  the  expression  of 
delight  that  her  presence  always  called 
forth  even  in  times  of  extreme  strenuos- 
ity,  "do  leave  Phoebe  with  me — I'm  really 
a  very  lorn  old  man." 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS    177 

"Why,  are  you  really  lonely  dear?  Then 
Caroline  and  I  won't  think  of  going. 
We'll  stay  right  here  to  lunch  with  you. 
I  will  go  tell  her  and  you  put  up  your 
books  and  papers  and  we  will  bring  our 
sewing  and  chat  with  you  and  Phoebe.  It 
will  be  lovely." 

"Matilda,"  answered  the  major  hastily 
with  real  alarm  in  his  eyes,  "I  insist  that 
you  unroll  my  strings  to  your  apron  as  far 
as  the  Country  Club  this  once.  I  capitu- 
late— no  man  in  the  world  ever  had  more 
attention  than  I  have.  Why,  Phoebe 
knows  that — " 

"Indeed,  indeed,  he  really  doesn't  want 
us,  Mrs.  Matilda.  Let's  leave  him  to  his 
Immortals.  I  will  be  ready  in  a  half -hour 
if  I  can  write  fast  here.  Tell  Caroline 
Darrah  to  hunt  me  up  a  fresh  veil  and 
phone  Mammy  Kitty  not  to  expect  me 
home  until — until  midnight.  Now  while 
you  dress  I  will  write." 


178    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"Very  well,"  answered  Mrs.  Buchanan, 
"if  you  are  sure  you  don't  need  us,  Ma- 
jor," and  with  a  caress  on  his  rampant  lock 
she  hurried  away. 

"You  took  an  awful  risk  then,  Major," 
said  Phoebe  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eyes. 

"I  know  it,"  answered  the  major.  "I've 
been  taking  them  for  nearly  forty  years. 
It's  added  much  to  this  affair  between 
Mrs.  Buchanan  and  me.  Small  excite- 
ments are  all  that  are  necessary  to  fan  the 
true  connubial  flame.  I  didn't  tell  her 
about  all  this  because  I  really  hadn't  the 
time.  Tell  her  on  the  way  out,  for  I  expect 
there  will  be  a  rattle  of  musketry  as  soon 
as  the  dimity  brigade  hears  the  circum- 
stances." 

Then  for  a  half -hour  Phoebe  and  the 
major  wrote  rapidly  until  she  gathered  her 
sheets  together  and  left  them  under  his 
paper-weight  to  be  delivered  to  the  devil 
from  the  office. 


She  departed  quietly,  taking  Mrs.  Ma- 
tilda and  Caroline  with  her. 

And  for  still  another  hour  the  major 
continued  to  push  his  pen  rapidly  across 
the  paper,  then  he  settled  down  to  the  busi- 
ness of  reading  and  annotating  his  work. 

For  years  Major  Buchanan  had  been 
the  editor  of  the  Gray  Picket,,  which  went 
its  way  weekly  into  almost  every  home  in 
the  South.  It  was  a  quaint,  bright  little 
folio  full  of  articles  of  interest  to  the  old 
Johnnie  Rebs  scattered  south  of  Mason 
and  Dixon.  As  a  general  thing  it  radiated 
good  cheer  and  a  most  patriotic  spirit,  but 
at  times  something  would  occur  to  stir 
the  gray  ashes  from  which  would  fly  a 
crash  of  sparks.  Then  again  the  spirit  of 
peace  unutterable  would  reign  in  its  col- 
umns. It  was  published  for  the  most  part 
to  keep  up  the  desire  for  the  yearly  Con- 
federate reunions — those  bivouacs  of 
chosen  spirits,  the  like  of  which  could 


never  have  been  before  and  can  never  be 
after.  The  major's  pen  was  a  trenchant 
one  but  reconstructed — in  the  main. 

But  the  scene  at  the  Country  Club  in 
the  early  afternoon  was,  according  to  the 
major's  prediction,  far  from  peaceful  in 
tone ;  it  was  confusion  confounded.  Mrs. 
Peyton  Kendrick  was  there  and  the  card- 
tables  were  deserted  as  the  players,  ma- 
trons and  maids,  gathered  around  her  and 
discussed  excitedly  the  result  of  her  "ways 
and  means  for  the  reunion"  mission  to 
the  city  council,  the  judge's  insult  and 
David  Kildare's  reply.  They  were  every 
mother's  daughter  of  them  Dames  of  the 
Confederacy  and  their  very  lovely  gowns 
were  none  the  less  their  fighting  clothes. 

"And  then,"  said  Mrs.  Payt,  her  cheeks 
pink  with  indignation,  and  the  essence  of 
belligerency  in  her  excited  eyes,  "for  a 
moment  I  sat  petrified,  petrified  with  cold 
rage,  until  David  Kildare's  speech  be* 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS     181 

gan — there  had  never  been  a  greater  one 
delivered  in  the  United  States  of  America! 
He  said — he  said — oh,  I  don't  know  what 
he  did  say,  but  it  was — " 

"I  just  feel—"  gasped  Polly  Farrell 
with  a  sob,  "that  I  ought  to  get  down  on 
my  knees  to  him.  He's  a  hero — he's  a — " 

"Of  course  for  a  second  I  was  sur- 
prised. I  had  never  heard  David  Kildare 
speak  about  a — a  serious  matter  before, 
but  I  could  have  expected  it,  for  his  father 
was  a  most  brilliant  lawyer,  and  his  moth- 
er's father  was  our  senator  for  twenty 
years  and  his  uncle  our  ambassador  to  the 
court  of — "  and  Mrs.  Peyton's  voice 
trailed  off  in  the  clamor. 

"Well,  I've  always  known  that  Cousin 
Dave  was  a  great  man.  He  ought  to  be 
the  president  or  governor — or  something. 
I  would  vote  for  him  to-morrow — or  that 
is,  I  would  make  some  man — I  don't  know 
just  who — do  it!"  And  Polly's  treble 


182    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

voice  again  took  up  the  theme  of  David's 
praises. 

"And  think  of  the  old  soldiers,"  said 
Mrs.  Buchanan  with  a  catch  in  her  breath. 
"It  will  hurt  them  so  when  they  read  it. 
They  will  think  people  are  tired  of  them 
and  that  we  don't  want  them  to  come  here 
in  the  spring  for  the  reunion.  They  are 
old  and  feeble  and  they  have  had  so  much 
to  bear.  It  was  cruel,  cruel." 

"And  to  think  of  not  wanting  the  chil- 
dren to  see  them  and  know  them  and  love 
them — and  understand!"  Milly's  soft 
voice  both  broke  and  blazed. 

"I'm  going  to  cry — I'm  doing  it," 
sobbed  Polly  with  her  head  on  Phoebe's 
shoulder.  "I  wasn't  but  twelve  when  they 
met  here  last  time  and  I  followed  all  the 
parades  and  cried  for  three  solid  days.  It 
was  delicious.  I'm  not  mad  at  any  Yan- 
kee— I'm  in  love  with  a  man  from  Bos- 
ton and  I'm — oh,  please,  don't  anybody 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS     183 

tell  I  said  that!  I  may  not  be,  I  just  think 
so  because  he  is  so  good-looking  and — 

"We  must  all  go  out  to  the  Soldier's 
Home  to-morrow,  a  large  committee,  and 
take  every  good  thing  we  can  think  up 
and  make.  We  must  pay  them  so  much 
attention  that  they  will  let  us  make  a  joke 
of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Matilda  thinking  im- 
mediately of  the  old  fellows  who  "sat  in 
the  sun" — waiting. 

"Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Peyton,  "and  we 
must  go  oftener.  We  want  some  more 
committees.  It  won't  be  many  years — two 
were  buried  last  week  from  the  Home." 
There  was  a  moment's  silence  and  the  sun 
streamed  in  across  the  deserted  tables. 

"Oh,"  murmured  Caroline  Darrah 
Brown  with  her  eyes  in  a  blaze,  "I  can't 
stand  it,  Phoebe.  I  never  felt  so  before — 
I  who  have  no  right." 

"Dear,"  said  Phosbe  with  a  quiet  though 
intensely  sad  smile,  "this  is  just  an  after- 


184    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

glow  of  what  they  must  have  felt  in  those 
awful  times.  Let's  get  them  started  at  the 
game." 

For  just  a  moment  longer  Phoebe 
watched  them  in  their  heated  discussion, 
then  chose  her  time  and  her  strong  quiet 
voice  commanded  immediate  attention. 

"Girls,"  she  said,  and  as  she  spoke  she 
held  out  her  hand  to  Mrs.  Peyton  Kend- 
rick  with  an  audacious  little  smile.  Any 
woman  from  two  to  sixty  likes  to  be 
called  girl — audaciously  as  Phoebe  did 
it.  "Let's  leave  it  all  to  the  men.  I  think 
we  can  trust  them  to  compel  the  judge  to 
dine  off  his  yesterday's  remarks  in  to- 
morrow's papers.  And  then  if  we  don't 
like  the  way  they  have  settled  with  him 
we  can  have  a  gorgeous  time  telling  them 
how  much  better  they  might  have  done  it. 
Let's  all  play — everybody  for  the  game !" 

"And  Phoebe!"  called  Mrs.  Payt  as  she 
sat  down  at  the  table  farthest  in  the  corner. 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS     185 

She  spoke  in  a  clear  high-pitched  voice 
that  carried  well  over  the  rustle  of  settling 
gowns  and  shuffling  cards:  "We  all  in- 
tend after  this  to  see  that  David  Kildare 
gets  what  he  wants — you  understand?"  A 
laugh  rippled  from  every  table  but  Phoebe 
was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"Why  not,  Mrs.  Payt,"  she  answered 
with  the  utmost  cordiality.  "And  let's  be 
sure  and  find  something  he  really  wants 
to  present  to  him  as  a  testimony  of  our 
esteem." 

"Oh,  Phoebe,"  trilled  Polly,  her  emo- 
tions getting  the  better  of  her  as  she  stood 
with  score-card  in  hand  waiting  for  the 
game  to  begin,  "Z  can't  keep  from  loving 
him  myself  and  you  treat  him  so  mean!" 

But  a  gale  of  merriment  interrupted 
her  outburst  and  a  flutter  of  cards  on  the 
felts  marked  the  first  rounds  of  the  hands. 
In  a  few  minutes  they  were  as  absorbed  as 
if  nothing  had  happened  to  ruffle  the 


186    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

depths ;  but  in  the  pool  of  every  woman's 
nature  the  deepest  spot  shelters  the  lost 
causes  of  life,  and  from  it  wells  a  tidal 
wave  if  stirred. 

After  a  little  while  Caroline  Darrah 
rose  from  a  dummy  and  spoke  in  a  low 
pleading  tone  to  Polly,  who  had  been 
watching  her  game,  standing  ready  to 
score.  Polly  demurred,  then  consented 
and  sat  down  while  Caroline  Darrah  took 
her  departure,  quietly  but  fleetly,  down 
the  side  steps. 

She  was  muffled  in  her  long  furs  and 
she  swung  her  sable  toque  with  its  one 
drooping  plume  in  her  hand  as  she  walked 
rapidly  across  the  tennis-courts,  cut 
through  the  beeches  and  came  out  on  the 
bank  of  the  brawling  little  Silver  Fork 
Creek,  that  wound  itself  from  over  the 
ridge  down  through  the  club  lands  to  the 
river.  She  stood  by  the  sycamore  for  a 
moment  listening  delightedly  to  its  chat- 


ter  over  the  rocks,  then  climbed  out  on  the 
huge  old  rock  that  jutted  out  from  the 
bank  and  was  entwined  by  the  bleached 
roots  of  the  tall  tree.  The  strong  winter 
sun  had  warmed  the  flat  slab  on  the  south 
side  and,  sinking  down  with  a  sigh  of  de- 
light, she  embraced  her  knees  and  bent 
over  to  gaze  into  the  sparkling  little  water- 
fall that  gushed  across  the  foot  of  the 
boulder. 

Then  for  a  mystic  half -hour  she  sat  and 
let  her  eyes  roam  the  blue  Harpeth  hills  in 
the  distance,  that  were  naked  and  stark 
save  for  the  lace  traceries  of  their  winter- 
robbed  trees.  As  the  sun  sank  a  soft  rose 
purple  shot  through  the  blue  and  the  mists 
of  the  valley  rose  higher  about  the  bared 
breasts  of  the  old  ridge. 

And  because  of  the  stillness  and  beauty 
of  the  place  and  hour,  Caroline  Darrah 
began,  as  women  will  if  the  opportunity 
only  so  slightly  invites  them,  to  dream — • 


188    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

until  a  crackle  in  a  thicket  opposite  her 
perch  distracted  her  attention  and  sent 
her  head  up  with  a  little  start.  In  a  sec- 
ond she  found  herself  looking  across  the 
chatty  little  stream  straight  into  the  eyes 
of  Andrew  Sevier,  in  which  she  found  an 
expression  of  having  come  upon  a  treas- 
ure with  distracting  suddenness. 

"Oh,"  she  said  to  break  the  silence  which 
seemed  to  be  settling  itself  between  them 
permanently,  "I  think  I  must  have  been 
dreaming  and  you  crashed  right  in;  I — 
I—" 

"Are  you  sure  you  are  not  the  dream 
itself — just  come  true?"  demanded  "the 
poet  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  as  if  he  were 
asking  the  time  of  day  or  the  trail  home. 

"I  don't  think  I  am,  in  fact  I'm  sure," 
she  answered  with  a  break  in  her  curled 
lips.  "The  dream  is  a  bridge,  a  beautiful 
bridge,  and  I've  been  seeing  it  grow  for 
minutes  and  minutes.  One  end  of  it  rests 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS     189 

down  there  by  that  broken  log — see  where 
the  little  knoll  swells  up  from  the  field? 
— and  it  stretches  in  a  beautiful  strong 
arch  until  it  seems  to  cut  across  that 
broken-backed  old  hill  in  the  distance. 
And  then  it  falls  across — but  I  don't 
know  where  to  put  the  other  end  of  it — the 
ground  sinks  so — it  might  wobble.  I  don't 
want  my  bridge  to  wobble." 

Her  tone  was  expressive  of  a  real  dis- 
tress as  she  looked  at  him  in  appealing 
confusion.  And  in  his  eyes  she  found  the 
dawn  of  an  amused  wonder,  almost  con- 
sternation. Slowly  over  his  face  there 
spread  a,  deep  flush  and  his  lips  were  in- 
drawn with  a  quick  breath. 

"Wait  a  minute,  I'll  show  you,"  he  said 
in  almost  an  undertone.  He  swung  him- 
self across  the  creek  on  a  couple  of  stones, 
climbed  up  the  boulder  and  seated  himself 
at  her  side.  Then  he  drew  a  sketch-book 


from  his  pocket  and  spread  it  open  on  the 
slab  before  them. 

There  it  was — the  dream  bridge  1  It 
rose  in  a  fine  strong  curve  from  the  little 
knoll,  spanned  across  the  distant  ridge  and 
fell  to  the  opposite  bank  on  to  a  broad 
support  that  braced  itself  against  a  rock 
ledge.  It  was  as  fine  a  perspective  sketch 
as  ever  came  from  the  pencil  of  an  enthus- 
iastic young  Beaux  Arts. 

"Yes,"  she  said  with  a  delighted  sigh 
that  was  like  the  slide  of  the  water  over 
smooth  pebbles,  "yes,  that  is  what  I  want 
it  to  be,  only  I  couldn't  seem  to  see  how 
it  would  rest  right  away.  It  is  just  as  I 
dreamed  it  and," — then  she  looked  at  him 
with  startled  jeweled  eyes.  "Where  did 
I  see  it — where  did  you — what  does  it 
mean?"  she  demanded,  and  the  flush  that 
rose  up  to  the  waves  of  her  hair  was  the 
reflection  of  the  one  that  had  stained  his 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS    191 

face  before  he  came  across  the  stream.  "I 
think  I'm  frightened,"  she  added  with  a 
little  nervous  laugh. 

"Please  don't  be — because  I  am,  too," 
he  answered.  And  instinctively,  like  two 
children,  they  drew  close  together.  They 
both  gazed  at  the  specter  sketch  spread 
before  them  and  drew  still  nearer  to  each 
other. 

"I  have  been  planning  it  for  days,"  he 
said  in  almost  a  whisper.  Her  small  pink 
ear  was  very  near  his  lips  and  his  breath 
agitated  two  little  gold  tendrils  that  blew 
across  it.  "I  want  to  build  it  before  I  go 
away,  it  is  needed  here  for  the  hunting. 
I  came  out  and  made  the  sketch  from 
right  here  an  hour  ago.  I  came  back — I 
must  have  come  back  to  have  it — verified." 
He  laughed  softly,  and  for  just  a  second 
his  fingers  rested  against  hers  on  the  edge 
of  the  sketch. 

"I'm  still  frightened,"  she  said,  but  a 


192    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

tippy  little  smile  coaxed  at  the  corners  of 
her  mouth.  She  turned  her  face  away 
from  his  eyes  that  had  grown — disturbing. 

"I'm  not,"  he  announced  boldly. 
"Beautiful  wild  things  are  flying  loose 
all  over  the  world  and  why  shouldn't  we 
capture  one  for  ourselves.  Do  you  mind 
— please  don't!" 

"I  don't  think  I  do,"  she  answered,  and 
her  lashes  swept  her  cheeks  as  she  lifted 
the  sketch-book  to  her  knees.  "Only  sup- 
pose I  was  to  dream — some  of  your — 
other  work — some  day?  I  don't  want  to 
build  your  bridges — but  I  might  want  to 
— write  some  of  your  poems.  Hadn't  you 
better  do  something  to  stop  me  right 
now?"  The  smile  had  come  to  stay  and 
peeped  roguishly  out  at  him  from  be- 
neath her  lashes. 

"No,"  he  answered  calmly,  "if  you  want 
my  dreams — they  are  yours." 

"Oh,"  she  said  as  she  rose  to  her  feet 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS     193 

and  looked  down  at  him  wistfully,  "your 
beautiful,  beautiful  dreams!  Ever  since 
that  afternoon  I  have  gone  over  and  over 
the  lines  you  read  me.  The  one  about  the 
'brotherhood  of  our  heart's  desires'  keeps 
me  from  being  lonely.  I  think — I  think 
I  went  to  sleep  saying  it  to  myself  last 
night  and — " 

It  couldn't  go  on  any  longer — as  An- 
drew rose  to  his  feet  he  gathered  together 
any  stray  wreckage  of  wits  that  was  with- 
in his  reach  and  managed,  by  not  looking 
directly  at  her,  to  say  in  a  rational,  elder- 
ly, friendly  tone,  slightly  tinged  with  the 
scientific : 

"My  dear  child,  and  that's  why  you 
built  my  bridge  for  me  to-day.  You 
put  yourself  into  mental  accord  with  me 
by  the  use  of  my  jingle  last  night  and  fell 
asleep  having  hypnotized  yourself  with 
it.  Things  wilder  than  fancies  are  facts 
these  days,  written  in  large  volumes  by 


extremely  erudite  old  gentlemen  and  we 
believe  them  because  we  must.  This  is  a 
simple  case,  with  a  well-known  scientific 
name  and — " 

"But,"  interrupted  Caroline  Darrah, 
and  as  she  stood  away  from  him  against 
the  dim  hills,  her  slender  figure  seemed 
poised  as  if  for  flight,  and  a  hurt  young 
seriousness  was  in  her  lifted  purple  eyes: 
"I  don't  want  it  to  be  a  'simple  case'  with 
any  scientific — "  and  just  here  a  merry 
call  interrupted  her  from  up-stream. 

Phrebe  and  Polly  had  come  to  summon 
her  back  to  the  club ;  tea  was  on  the  brew. 
With  the  intensest  hospitality  they  invited 
Andrew  to  come,  too.  But  he  declined 
with  what  grace  he  could  and  made  his 
way  through  the  tangle  down-stream  as 
they  walked  back  under  the  beeches. 

Thus  a  very  bitter  thing  had  come  to 
Andrew  Sevier — and  sweet  as  the  pulse 
of  heaven.  In  his  hand  he  had  seen  a 


THE  BRIDGE  OF  DREAMS     195 

sensitive  flower  unfold  to  its  very  heart  of 
flame. 

"Never    let    her    know,"    he    prayed, 
"never  let  her  know." 


CHAPTER  VII 

STRANGE  WILD  THINGS 

"PHOEBE/'  said  David  Kildare  as  he 
seated  himself  on  the  corner  of  the  table 
just  across  from  where  Phoebe  sat  in  Ma- 
jor Buchanan's  chair  writing  up  her  one 
o'clock  notes,  "what  is  there  about  me  that 
makes  people  think  they  must  make  me 
judge  of  the  criminal  court  of  this  county? 
Do  I  look  job-hungry  so  as  to  notice  it?" 
"No,"  answered  Phoebe  as  she  folded 
her  last  sheet  and  laid  down  her  pencil, 
"that  is  one  thing  no  one  can  accuse  you 
of,  David.  But  your  work  down  there  has 
brought  its  results.  They  need  you  and 
are  calling  to  you  rather  decisively  I  think. 
'Any  more  delegations  to-day?" 
196 


STRANGE  WILD   THINGS    197 

"Several.  Susie  Carrie  Snow  came  with 
more  Civic  Improvements,  rather  short  as 
to  skirts  and  skimpy  as  to  hats.  They  have 
fully  decided  that  I  am  going  to  feed 
Mayor  Potts  out  of  my  hand  as  Taylor 
does,  and  they  want  my  influence  to  put 
up  two  more  drinking  fountains  and 
three  brass  plates  to  mark  the  homes  of 
the  founders  of  the  city,  in  return  for 
their  precious  support.  I  promised;  and 
they  fell  on  my  neck.  That  is,  if  you 
don't  mind?"  David  edged  a  tentative  inch 
or  two  nearer  Phoebe  who  had  rested  her 
elbows  on  the  table  and  her  head  on  her 
hands  as  she  looked  up  at  him. 

"I  don't,"  she  answered  with  a  cruel 
smile.  Then  she  asked,  with  an  uncon- 
cerned glance  over  the  top  of  his  head, 
"Did  you  hear  from  the  United  Chari- 
ties?" 

"Well,  yes,  some,"  returned  David  with 
an  open  countenance,  no  suspicion  of  a 


198    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

trap  in  even  the  flicker  of  an  eyelash. 
"They  sent  Mrs.  Cherry.  Blooming 
more  every  day  isn't  she,  don't  you  think? 
She  didn't  fall  on  my  neck  worth  a  cent 
though  I  had  braced  myself  for  the  shock. 
She  managed  to  convey  the  fact  that  the 
whole  organization  is  for  me  just  the 
same.  It's  some  pumpkins  to  be  a  candi- 
date. I'm  for  all  there  is  in  it — if  at  all." 

"You  aren't  hesitating,  David?"  asked 
Phoebe  as  she  rose  and  stood  straight  and 
tall  beside  him,  her  eyes  on  a  level  with  his 
as  he  sat  on  the  table.  "Ah,  David,  you 
can  if  you  will — will  you?  I  know  what 
it  means  to  you,"  and  Phoebe  laid  one  hand 
on  his  shoulder  as  she  looked  him  straight 
in  the  eyes,  "for  it  will  be  work,  work 
and  fight  like  mad  to  put  out  the  fire.  You 
will  have  to  fight  honest — and  they  won't. 
But,  David" — a  little  catch  in  her  voice 
betrayed  her  as  she  entreated. 

"Yes,  dear,"  answered  David  as  he  laid 


STRANGE  WILD   THINGS     199 

his  hand  over  the  one  on  his  shoulder  and 
pressed  it  closer,  "I  sent  in  the  announce- 
ment of  my  candidacy  to  the  afternoon 
papers  just  as  I  came  around  here  to  see 
the  major — and  you.  The  fight  is  on  and 
it  is  going  to  be  harder  than  you  realize, 
for  there  is  so  little  time.  Are  you  for 
me,  girl?" 

"If  I  fall  on  your  neck  it  will  make 
seven  this  morning.  Aren't  you  satisfied?" 
And  Phoebe  drew  her  hand  away  from  his, 
allowing,  however,  a  regretful  squeeze  as 
he  let  it  go. 

"No,  six  if  you  would  do  it,"  answered 
David  disconsolately,  "I  told  you  that 
Mrs.  Cherry  failed  me." 

"Yes,"  answered  Phoebe  as  she  lowered 
her  eyes,  "I  know  you  told  me."  David 
Kildare  was  keen  of  wit  but  it  takes  a 
most  extraordinary  wisdom  to  fathom  such 
a  woman  as  Phoebe  chose  to  be — out  of 
business  hours. 


200    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"Isn't  it  time  for  you  to  go  to  dress  for 
the  parade?"  she  asked  quickly  with  ap- 
parent anxiety. 

"No,"  answered  David  as  he  filled  his 
tooled  leather  case  from  the  major's  jar 
of  choice  Seven  Oaks  heart-leaf — he  had 
seen  Phoebe's  white  fingers  roll  it  to  the 
proper  fineness  just  the  night  before,  "I'm 
all  ready!  Did  you  think  I  was  going  to 
wear  a  lace  collar  and  a  sash?  Every- 
thing is  in  order  and  I  only  have  to  be 
there  at  two  to  start  them  off.  Every- 
body is  placed  on  the  platform  and  every- 
body is  satisfied.  The  unveiling  will  be 
at  three-thirty.  You  are  going  out  with 
Mrs.  Matilda  early,  aren't  you?  I  want 
you  to  see  me  come  prancing  up  at  the 
head  of  the  mounted  police.  Won't  you 
be  proud  of  me?" 

"Sometimes,  really,  I  think  you  are  the 
missing  twin  to  little  Billy  Bob,"  answered 
Phoebe  with  a  laugh,  but  in  an  instant  her 


STRANGE  WILD  THINGS    201 

face  became  grave  again.  "I'm  worried 
about  Caroline  Darrah,"  she  said  softly. 
"I  found  her  crying  last  night  after  I  had 
finished  work.  I  was  staying  here  with 
Mrs.  Matilda  for  the  night  and  I  went 
into  her  room  for  a  moment  on  the  chance 
that  she  would  be  awake.  She  said  she 
had  wakened  from  an  ugly  dream — but 
I  know  she  dreads  this  presentation,  and 
I  don't  blame  her.  It  was  lovely  of  her 
to  want  to  give  the  statue  and  plucky  of 
her  to  come  and  do  it — but  it's  in  every 
way  trying  for  her." 

"And  isn't  she  the  darling  child?"  an- 
swered David  Kildare,  a  tender  smile  com- 
ing into  his  eyes.  "Plucky !  Well  I  should 
say  so!  To  come  dragging  old  Peters 
Brown's  money-bags  down  here  just  as 
soon  as  he  croaked,  with  the  express  in- 
tention of  opening  up  and  passing  us  all 
our  wads  back.  Could  anything  as — as 
pathetic  ever  have  happened  before?" 


202    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"No,"  answered  Phoebe.  Then  she  said 
slowly,  tentatively,  as  she  looked  into 
David's  eyes  that  were  warm  with  friend- 
liness for  the  inherited  friend  who  had 
preempted  a  place  in  both  their  hearts: 
"And  the  one  awful  thing  for  which  she 
can  offer  no  reparation  she  knows  noth- 
ing of.  I  pray  she  never  knows  I" 

"Yes,  but  it  is  about  to  do  him  to  the 
death.  I  sometimes  wake  and  find  him 
sitting  over  his  papers  at  daybreak  with 
burned-out  eyes  and  as  pale  as  a  white 
horse  in  a  fog." 

"But  why  does  it  have  to  be  that  way? 
Andrew  isn't  bitter  and  it  isn't  her  fault — 
she  wasn't  even  born  then.  She  doesn't 
even  know." 

"I  think  it's  mostly  the  money,"  said 
David  slowly.  "If  she  were  poor  it  would 
be  all  right  to  forgive  her  and  take  her, 
but  a  man  couldn't  very  well  marry  his 
father's  blood  money.  And  he's  suffer- 


STRANGE  WILD  THINGS    203 

ing  God  knows.  Here  I've  been  count- 
ing for  years  on  his  getting  love-tied  at 
home,  and  to  think  it  should  be  like  this! 
Sometimes  I  wish  she  did  know — she  of- 
fers herself  to  him  like  a  little  child;  and 
thinks  she  is  only  doing  reverence  to  the 
poet.  It's  driving  him  mad,  but  he  won't 
cut  and  run." 

"And  yet,"  said  Phoebe,  "it  would  kill 
her  to  know.  She  is  so  sensitive  and  she 
has  just  begun  to  be  herself  with  us.  She 
has  had  so  few  friends  and  she  isn't  like 
we  are.  Why,  Polly  Farrell  could  man- 
age such  a  situation  better  than  Caroline 
Darrah.  She  is  so  eleme'ntal  that  she  is 
positively — primitive.  I  am  frightened 
about  it  sometimes — I  can  only  trust  An- 
drew." As  Phoebe  spoke  her  eyes  grew 
sad  and  her  lips  quivered. 

"Dear  heart,"  said  David  as  he  took 
both  her  hands  in  his,  "it's  just  one  of 
those  fatal  things  that  no  man  can  see 


204    ANDREW   THE   GLAD 

through;  he  can  just  be  thankful  that 
there's  a  God  to  handle  'em."  There  were 
times  when  David  Kildare's  voice  held 
more  of  tenderness  than  Phrebe  was  cal- 
culated to  withstand  without  heroic  effort. 
It  behooved  her  to  exert  the  utmost  at 
this  moment  in  order  that  she  might  hold 
her  own. 

"It's  making  me  thin,"  she  ventured  as 
she  shook  a  little  shower  of  tears  off  her 
black  lashes  and  again  smilingly  regained 
control  of  her  own  hands,  but  displaying 
a  slender  blue-veined  wrist  for  his  sympa- 
thetic inspection. 

"Help!"  exclaimed  David,  taking  pos- 
session of  the  wrist  and  circling  it  with 
his  thumb  and  forefinger.  "Let  me  send 
for  a  crate  of  eggs  and  a  case  of  the 
malt-milk!  You  poor  starved  peach-bud 
you,  why  won't  you  marry  me  and  let  me 
feed  you?  I'm  going — " 

"But  you  and  the  major  both  recom- 


STRANGE  WILD   THINGS     205 

mended  lovers'  troubles'  to  me,  David," 
Phoebe  hazarded. 

"I  only  recommended  my  own  special 
brand,  remember,"  retorted  David.  "I 
won't  have  you  ill!  I'm  going  to  see  that 
you  do  as  I  say  about  your — " 

"David  Kildare,"  remarked  the  major 
from  the  door  into  the  hall,  "if  you  use 
that  tone  to  the  grand  jury  they  will  shut 
up  every  saloon  in  Hell's  Half  Acre.  Hail 
the  judge!  My  boy,  my  boy,  I  knew 
you'd  line  up  when  the  time  came — and 
the  line!" 

"Can  I  count  on  the  full  artillery  of  the 
Gray  Picket  brigade,  Major?"  demanded 
David  with  delight  in  his  eyes  as  he  re- 
turned the  major's  vigorous  hand-shake. 

"Hot  shot,  grape,  canister  and  shrap-i 
nel,  sir!  Horses  in  lather,  guns  on  the 
wheel  and  bayonets  set.  We'll  bivouac 
in  the  camp  of  the  enemy  on  the  night  of 
the  election!  We'll—" 


206    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"I  don't  believe  you  will  want  to  lie 
down  in  the  lair  of  the  blind  tiger  as  soon 
as  that,  Major,"  laugher  Phoebe. 

"Phoebe,"  answered  the  major,  "politics 
makes  strange  bed-fellows.  Mike 
O'Rourke,  the  boss  of  the  democratic 
Irish,  was  around  this  morning  hunting 
for  David  Kildare  with  the  entire  green 
grocer's  vote  in  his  pocket.  He  spoke  of 
the  boy  as  his  own  son." 

"Good  for  old  Mike!"  laughed  David. 
"It's  not  every  boy  who  can  boast  an  inti- 
mate friendship  with  his  corner  grocer 
from  childhood  up.  It  means  a  certain 
kind  of — self-denial  in  the  matter  of  ap- 
ples and  other  temptations.  I  used  to  go  to 
the  point  of  an  occasional  errand  for  him. 
Those  were  the  days,  Phoebe,  when  you 
sat  on  the  front  steps  and  played  holly- 
hock dolls.  Wish  I'd  kidnaped  you  then 
— when  I  could!" 

"It  would  have  saved  us  both  lots  of 


STRANGE  WILD  THINGS    207 

time — and  trouble,"  answered  Phoebe  dar- 
ingly from  the  protection  of  the  major's 
presence. 

"David,  sir,"  said  the  major  who  had 
been  busy  settling  himself  in  his  chair 
and  lighting  his  pipe  during  this  ex- 
change of  pleasantries  between  David  and 
Phoebe,  to  the  like  of  which  he  was  thor- 
oughly accustomed,  "this  is  going  to  be 
a  fight  to  the  ditches.  I  believe  the  whis- 
ky ring  that  controls  this  city  to  be  the 
worst  machine  south  of  Mason  and  Dix- 
on's.  State-wide  prohibition  voted  six 
months  ago  and  every  saloon  in  the  town 
going  full  tilt  night  and  day!  They  own 
the  city  council,  the  board  of  public 
works  and  the  mayor,  but  none  of  that 
compares  in  seriousness  to  the  debauch- 
ing of  our  criminal  courts.  The  grand 
jury  is  helpless  if  the  judge  dismisses 
every  true  bill  they  return — and  Taylor 
does  it  every  time  if  it  is  a  whisky  law 


208    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

indictment  or  pertaining  thereto,  and  most 
of  the  bills  are  at  least  distantly  pertain- 
ing. So  there  you  have  us  bound  and 
helpless — a  disgrace  to  the  nation,  sir,  and 
a  reproach  to  good  government!" 

"Yes,  Major,  they've  got  us  tied  up 
some — but  they  forgot  to  gag  us,"  an- 
swered David  with  a  smile.  "Your  edi- 
torial in  the  Gray  Picket^  calling  on  me  to 
run  for  criminal  court  judge,  has  been 
copied  in  every  paper  in  the  state  and 
some  of  the  large  northern  sheets.  I  am 
willing  to  make  the  try,  Major.  I've 
practised  down  there  more  than  you'd 
think  and  it's  rotten  from  the  cellar  steps 
to  the  lightning-rod.  Big  black  buck  is 
sent  up  for  rioting  down  at  Hein's  Bucket 
of  Blood  dive — stand  aside  and  forget 
about  it — while  some  poor  old  kink  is  sent 
out  to  the  pen  for  running  into  a  flock  of 
sleepy  hens  in  the  dark,  'unbenkownst'  en- 
tirely. I  defended  six  poor  pick-ups  last 


STRANGE  WILD  THINGS    209 

week  myself,  and  I  guess  Taylor  saw 
my  blood  was  on  the  boil  at  the  way  he's 
running  things.  I'm  ready  to  take  a  hand 
with  him,  but  it  will  take  some  pretty  busy 
doing  around  to  beat  the  booze  gang.  Am 
I  the  man — do  you  feel  sure?" 

As  David  questioned  the  major  his  jaw 
squared  itself  determinedly.  There  was  a 
rather  forceful  sort  of  man  appearing  un- 
der the  nonchalant  David  whom  his 
friends  had  known  for  years.  A  wild 
pride  stirred  in  Phoebe  to  such  an  extent 
that  she  caught  her  breath  while  she 
waited  for  the  major's  reply. 

"Yes,  David,"  answered  the  major  as 
he  looked  up  at  him  with  his  keen  old 
eagle  eyes,  "I  think  you  are.  You've  had 
everything  this  nation  can  give  you  in  the 
way  of  fighting  blood  from  Cowpens  to 
Bull  Run,  and  when  you  speak  in  a  body 
legislative  your  voice  can  be  but  an  echo 
of  the  men  who  sired  you,  statesmen, 


210    ANDREW   THE   GLAD 

most  of  them ;  so  it  is  to  you  and  your  class 
we  must  look  for  clean  government.  It 
is  your  arraignment  of  the  mayor  and  the 
judge  on  the  hay-market  question  that 
has  made  every  decent  organization  in  the 
city  look  to  you  to  begin  the  fight  for  a 
clean-up  reorganization.  They  have  all 
rallied  to  your  support.  Show  your  colors, 
boy,  and,  God  willing,  we  will  smash  this 
machine  to  the  last  cog  and  get  on  a  basis 
of  honest  government." 

"Then  here  goes  the  hottest  fight 
Davie  knows  how  to  put  to  them!  And 
it's  going  to  be  an  honest  one.  I'll  go 
before  the  people  of  this  city  and  promise 
them  to  enforce  law  and  order,  but  I'll 
not  buy  a  vote  of  a  man  of  them.  That  I 
mean,  and  I  hereby  hand  it  out  to  you  two 
representatives  of  the  press.  From  now 
on  'not  a  dollar  spent'  is  the  word  and 
I'm  back  of  it  to  make  it  go."  As  he  spoke, 
Kildare  turned  to  Phoebe  and  looked  at 


STRANGE  WILD   THINGS    211 

her  as  man  to  man  with  nothing  in  his 
voice  but  the  cool  note  of  determination. 
It  was  a  cold  dash  for  Phoebe  but  the  re- 
action brought  hot  pride  to  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  David,"  she  answered,  "you  can 
and  you  will." 

The  determination  in  her  voice  matched 
that  in  his,  and  her  eyes  met  his  with  a 
glance  in  which  lay  a  new  expression — not 
the  old  tolerant  affection  nor  the  guarded 
defense,  but  one  with  a  quality  of  com- 
radeship that  steadied  every  nerve  in  his 
body.  Some  men  get  the  like  from  some 
women — but  not  often. 

"They  will  empty  their  pockets  to  fight 
you,"  the  major  continued  thoughtfully. 
"But  there  is  a  deal  of  latent  honesty  in 
human  nature,  after  all,  that  will  answer 
the  right  appeal  by  the  right  man.  A  man 
calls  a  man;  and  ask  a  crook  to  come  in 
on  the  straight  proposition,  two  to  one 
he'll  step  over  the  line  before  he  stops 


212    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

himself.  This  is  an  independent  candi- 
dacy— let's  ask  them  all  in,  without  refer- 
ence to  age,  color  or  'previous  condition  of 
servitude' — in  the  broadest  sense." 

"Yes,  and  with  the  other  construction, 
too,  perhaps.  We'll  ask  in  the  darks — 
but  they  won't  come.  They'll  vote  with 
the  jug  crowd  every  time.  No  nig  votes 
for  Dave  without  the  dollar  and  the  small 
bottle.  How  many  do  they  poll,  anyway, 
do  you  suppose?" 

"Less  than  a  thousand  I  think.  Not 
overwhelming!  But  in  an  independent 
race  it  might  hold  the  balance  of  power. 
We'll  devise  means  to  appeal  to  them ;  we 
must  keep  up  all  the  fences,  you  see.  A 
man  who  doesn't  see  to  his  fences  is  a 
mighty  poor  proposition  as  a  farmer 
and—" 

"Hicks  was  here  this  morning,  Major 
dear,  to  talk  about  that  very  thing,"  said 


STRANGE  WILD   THINGS    213 

Mrs.  Matilda  as  she  came  in  just  in 
time  to  catch  the  last  of  the  major's  re- 
mark. "He  says  that  ten  hogs  got 
through  into  the  north  pasture  and  rooted 
up  acres  of  grass  and  if  you  don't  get  the 
new  posts  to  repair  the  fence  he  can't  an- 
swer for  the  damage  done.  He  told  you 
about  it  more  than  a  month  ago  and — " 

"David  Kildare,"  said  the  major  with 
an  enigmatical  smile,  "what  you  need  to 
see  you  through  life  is  a  wife.  When  a 
man  mounts  a  high -horse  aeroplane  and 
goes  sailing  off,  dimity  is  the  best  possible 
ballast.  Consider  the  matter  I  beg  of  you 
— don't  be  obdurate." 

"Why,  of  course  David  is  going  to 
marry  some  day,"  answered  Mrs.  Matilda 
as  she  beamed  upon  them.  "A  woman  gets 
along  nicely  unmarried  but  it  is  cruel  to 
a  man.  Major,  Jeff  is  waiting  to  help  you 
into  your  uniform.  Do  be  careful,  for  it 


ANDREW.    THE    GLAD 

is  mended  to  the  last  stitch  now  and  I 
don't  see  how  it  is  going  to  hold  together 
many  more  times." 

"Gray  uniforms  have  held  together  a 
long  time,  Matilda,"  answered  the  major 
softly  as  he  took  his  departure. 

"And  we  must  all  hurry  and  have 
lunch,"  said  Mrs.  Buchanan.  "Phoebe 
and  I  want  to  be  there  in  plenty  of  time 
to  see  the  parade  arrive.  It  always  gives 
me  a  thrill  to  see  the  major  ride  up  at  the 
head  of  his  company.  I've  never  got 
over  it  all  these  years." 

"How  'bout  that,  Phoebe?"  asked  Da- 
vid, once  more  his  daring  insistent  self. 
"Seems  it  wasn't  so  young  in  me  after  all 
to  think  you  might  thrill  a  few  glads  to 
see  me  come  prancing  up.  Now,  will  you 
be  good?" 

And  it  was  only  a  little  over  two  hours 
later  that  the  parade  moved  on  its  way 
from  the  public  square  to  the  park.  A 


STRANGE  WILD   THINGS     215 

goodly  show  they  made  and  an  interesting 
one,  the  grizzled  old  war-dogs  in  their 
faded  uniforms  with  faces  aglow  under 
their  tattered  caps.  They  trudged  along 
under  their  ragged  banners  in  hearty  good 
will,  with  now  a  limp  and  now  a  halt  and 
all  of  them  entirely  out  of  step  with  the 
enthusiastic  young  band  in  its  natty  uni- 
form. They  called  to  one  another,  chaffed 
the  mounted  officers,  sang  when  the  spirit 
moved  them  and  acted  in  every  way  like 
boys  who  were  off  on  the  great  lark  of 
their  lives. 

All  along  the  line  of  march  there  were 
crowds  to  see  them  and  cheer  them,  with 
here  and  there  a  white-haired  woman  who 
waved  her  handkerchief  and  smiled  at 
them  through  a  rain  of  tears. 

The  major  rode  at  the  head  of  a  small 
and  straggling  division  of  cavalry  whose 
men  ambled  along  and  guyed  one  another 
about  the  management  of  their  green  liv- 


216    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

ery  horses  who  were  inclined  to  bunch  and 
go  wild  with  the  music. 

A  few  pieces  of  heavy  artillery  lum- 
bered by  next,  and  just  behind  them  came 
three  huge  motor-cars  packed  and 
jammed  with  the  old  fellows  who  were 
too  feeble  to  keep  up  with  the  pro- 
cession. They  were  most  of  them  from 
the  Soldiers'  Home  and  in  spite  of  empty 
coat  sleeves  and  crutches  they  bobbed  up 
and  down  and  waved  their  caps  with  en- 
thusiasm as  cheer  after  cheer  rose  when- 
ever they  came  into  sight. 

Andrew  Sevier  stood  at  his  study  win- 
dow and  watched  them  go  past,  marching 
to  the  conflicting  tunes  of  The  Bonnie 
Blue  Flag,  played  by  the  head  band,  and 
Dime  by  the  following  one.  It  was  great 
to  see  them  again  after  five  years;  and  in 
such  spirits!  He  felt  a  cheer  rise  to  his 
lips  and  he  wanted  to  open  the  window 


STRANGE  WILD  THINGS    217 

and  give  lusty  vent  to  it — but  a  keen  pain 
caught  it  in  his  throat. 

Always  before  he  had  ridden  with 
David  at  the  head  of  the  division  of  the 
Confederacy's  Sons,  but  to-day  he  stood 
behind  the  window  and  watched  them  go 
past  him!  There  were  men  in  those  ranks 
who  had  slept  in  the  ditches  with  his  fa- 
ther, and  to  whom  he  had  felt  that  his  pres- 
ence would  be  a  reminder  of  an  exceeding 
bitterness.  The  had  quietly  fought  the 
acceptance  of  the  statue  offered  by  the 
daughter  of  Peters  Brown  from  the  be- 
ginning, but  the  granddaughter  of  Gen- 
eral Darrah,  who  had  led  them  at  Chicka- 
mauga,  must  needs  command  their  accept- 
ance of  a  memorial  to  him  and  her  mother. 

And  they  would  all  do  her  honor  after 
the  unveiling.  Andrew  could  almost  see 
old  General  Clopton  stand  with  bared  head 
and  feel  the  thrill  with  which  the  audience 


218    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

would  listen  to  what  would  be  a  tender 
tribute  to  the  war  women.  A  wave  of  pas- 
sionate joy  swelled  up  in  his  heart — he 
wanted  them  to  cheer  her  and  love  her  and 
adopt  her!  It  was  her  baptism  into  her 
heritage !  And  he  gloried  in  it. 

Then  across  his  joy  came  a  curious  sti- 
fling depression — he  found  himself  listen- 
ing as  if  some  one  had  called  him,  called 
for  help.  The  music  was  dying  away  in 
the  distance  and  the  cheers  became  fainter 
and  fainter  until  their  echo  seemed  almost 
a  sob.  Before  he  had  time  to  realize  what 
he  did  he  descended  the  stair,  crossed  the 
street  and  let  himself  into  the  Buchanan 
house. 

He  stood  just  within  the  library  door 
and  listened  again.  A  profound  stillness 
seemed  to  beat  through  the  deserted  rooms 
— then  he  saw  her !  She  sat  with  her  arms 
outspread  across  the  table  and  her  head 
bent  upon  a  pile  of  papers.  She  was 


STRANGE  WILD  THINGS    219 

tensely  still  as  if  waiting  for  something  to 
sound  around  her. 

"Caroline!"  It  was  the  first  time  he 
had  called  her  by  her  name  and  though  the 
others  had  done  it  from  the  first,  she  had 
never  seemed  to  notice  his  more  formal 
address.  It  was  beyond  him  to  keep  the 
tenderness  that  swept  through  every  nerve 
out  of  his  voice  entirely. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  as  she  raised  her 
head  and  looked  at  him,  her  eyes  shining 
dark  in  her  white  face,  "I  know  I'm  a 
coward — did  you  come  back  to  make  me 
go?  I  thought  they  might  not  miss  me 
until  it  was  too  late  to  come  for  me.  I 
didn't  think — I — could  stand  it — please — 
please!" 

"You  needn't  go  at  all,  dear,"  he  said 
as  he  took  the  cold  hands  in  his  and  un- 
clasped the  wrung  fingers.  "Why  didn't 
you  tell  them?  They  wouldn't  have  insist- 
ed on  your  going." 


"I — I  couldn't!  I  just  could  not  say 
what  I  felt  to — to — them.  I  wanted  to 
come — the  statue  suggested  itself — for 
her.  I  ought  to  have  given  it  and  gone 
back — back  to  my  own  life.  I  don't  be- 
long— there  is  something  between  them 
all  and  me.  They  love  me  and  try  to  make 
me  forget  it  and — " 

"But,  don't  you  see,  child,  that's  just 
it?  They  love  you  so  they  hold  you  against 
all  the  other  life  you  have  had  before. 
We're  a  strong  love  people  down  here — 
we  claim  our  own!"  A  note  in  his  voice 
brought  Andrew  to  his  senses.  He  let  her 
hands  slip  from  his  and  went  around  the 
table  and  sat  down  opposite  to  her.  "And 
so  you  ran  away  and  hid?"  He  smiled  at 
her  reassuringly. 

"Yes.  I  knew  I  ought  not  to — then  I 
heard  the  music  and  I  couldn't  look  or 
listen.  I — why, where  did  you  come  from? 
I  thought  you  were  in  the  parade  with 


STRANGE  WILD  THINGS    221 

David.  I  felt — if  you  knew  you  would 
understand.  I  wished  that  I  had  asked 
you — had  told  you  that  I  couldn't  go.  Did 
you  come  back  for  me?" 

"No,"  answered  Andrew  with  a  prayer 
in  his  heart  for  words  to  cover  facts  from 
the  clear  eyes  fixed  on  his — clear,  com- 
forted young  eyes  that  looked  right  down 
to  the  rock  bed  of  his  soul.  "You  see  the 
old  boys  rather  upset  me,  too.  I  have  been 
away  so  long — and  so  many  of  them  are 
missing.  I'm  just  a  coward,  too — 'birds  of 
a  feather' — take  me  under  your  wing, 
will  you?" 

"I  believe  one  of  those  'strange  wild 
things'  has  been  flying  around  in  the  at- 
mosphere and  has  taken  possession  of  us 
again,"  said  Caroline  Darrah  slowly, 
never  taking  her  eyes  from  his.  "I  don't 
know  why  I  know,  but  I  do,  that  you 
came  to  comfort  me.  I  was  thinking  about 
you  and  wishing  I  could  tell  you.  Now  in 


just  this  minute  you've  made  me  see  that 
I  have  a  right  to  all  of  you.  I'm  never  go- 
ing to  be  unhappy  about  it  any  more. 
After  this  I'm  going  to  belong  as  hard  as 
ever  I  can." 

Something  crashed  in  every  vein  in  An- 
drew Sevier's  body,  lilted  in  his  heart,  beat 
in  his  throat  and  sparkled  in  his  eyes.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  held  out  his  hand 
to  her. 

"Then  come  on  and  be  adopted,"  he 
said.  "I  shall  order  the  electric,  and  you 
get  into  your  hat  and  coat.  We  can  skirt 
the  park  and  come  in  at  the  side  of  the 
Temple  back  of  the  platform  so  that  you 
can  slip  into  place  before  one-half  of  the 
sky-rockets  of  oratory  have  been  explod- 
ed. Will  you  come?" 

"Will  you  stay  with  me — right  by  me?" 
she  asked,  timidity  and  courage  at  war  in 
her  voice. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  slowly,  "I'll  stay 


STRANGE  WILD  THINGS    223 

by  you  as  long  as  you  want  me — if  I  can." 
"And  that,"  said  Caroline  Darrah 
Brown  as  she  turned  at  the  door  and 
looked  straight  at  him  with  a  heavenly 
blush  mounting  in  her  cheeks,  the  tender- 
ness of  the  ages  curling  her  lips  and  the 
innocence  of  all  of  six  years  in  her  eyes, 
"will  be  always  1"  With  which  she  disap- 
peared instantly  beyond  the  rose  damask 
hangings. 

And  so  when  the  ceremonies  in  the  park 
were  over  and  Caroline  stood  to  clasp 
hands  with  each  of  the  clamorous  gray 
squad,  Andrew  Sevier  waited  just  behind 
her  and  he  met  one  after  another  of  the 
sharp  glances  shot  at  him  from  under 
grizzled  brows  with  a  dignity  that  quieted 
even  the  grimmest  old  fire-eater. 

And  there  are  strange  wild  things  that 
take  hold  on  the  lives  of  men — vital  forces 
against  which  one  can  but  beat  helpless 
wings  of  mortal  spirit. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   SPELL  AND   ITS   WEAVING 

AND  after  the  confusion,  the  distress  and 
the  joy  of  the  afternoon  out  in  the  park 
when  she  and  her  gift  had  been  accepted 
and  acclaimed,  there  came  days  full  of 
deep  and  perfect  peace  to  Caroline  Dar- 
rah  Brown. 

Long,  strenuously  delightful  mornings 
she  spent  with  Tempie  in  the  excitements 
of  completing  her  most  comprehensive 
culinary  education  and  the  amount  of 
badinage  she  exchanged  upon  the  subject 
with  David  Kildare  occupied  many  of  his 
unemployed  minutes.  His  demands  for 
the  most  intricate  and  soul-trying  concoc- 
tions she  took  a  perfect  joy  in  meeting  and 
224 


THE    SPELL  225 

his  enthusiasm  stimulated  her  to  the  at- 
tempting of  the  most  difficult  feats. 

His  campaign  was  on  with  full  force 
and  his  days  were  busy  ones,  but  he  man- 
aged to  drop  into  the  kitchen  at  any  time 
when  he  deemed  it  at  all  certain  that  he 
would  find  her  there  and  was  always  fully 
rewarded. 

He  often  found  Andrew  Sevier  in  the 
library  in  consultation  with  the  major  over 
the  management  of  the  delicate  points  in 
the  campaign  and  occasionally  brought 
him  into  Tempie's  kingdom  with  him. 
And  Caroline  laughed  and  blushed  and 
explained  it  all  to  them  with  the  most 
beautiful  solicitude,  Temple  looking  on 
positively  bridling  with  pride. 

And  there  were  other  mornings  when 
she  took  her  sewing  and  crept  in  the  li- 
brary to  work,  while  the  major  and  An- 
drew held  consultation  over  the  affairs  of 
the  present  or  absent  David. 


226    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

The  whisky  ring  had  purchased  one  of 
the  morning  papers,  which  had  hitherto 
borne  a  reputation  for  extreme  conserva- 
tism, and  had  it  appear  each  morning  with 
brilliant,  carefully  modulated  arguments 
for  the  machine;  doctored  statistics  and 
brought  allegations  impossible  to  be  in- 
vestigated in  so  short  a  time. 

And  all  of  every  afternoon  and  evening 
Andrew  Sevier  sat  at  an  editorial  desk 
down  at  the  office  of  the  reform  journal 
and  pumped  hot  shot  through  their  flimsy 
though  plausible  arguments.  His  blood 
was  up  and  his  pen  more  than  a  match  for 
any  in  the  state,  so  he  often  sat  most  of  the 
night  writing,  reviewing  and  meeting  is- 
sue after  issue.  The  editor-in-chief,  whose 
heart  was  in  making  a  success  of  the  cam- 
paign by  which  his  paper  would  easily  be- 
come the  leading  morning  paper,  gave 
him  full  rein,  aided  and  abetted  him  by 
his  wide  knowledge  of  all  the  conditions 


THE    SPELL  227 

and  pointed  out  with  unerring  judgment 
the  sore  spots  on  the  hide  of  the  enemy  at 
which  to  send  the  gadfly  of  investigation. 

So  each  day  while  Andrew  and  the  ma- 
jor went  carefully  over  possibilities  to  be 
developed  by  and  against  the  enemy, 
Caroline  listened  with  absorbed  interest. 
Now  and  then  she  would  ask  a  question 
which  delighted  them  both  with  its  in- 
genuousness, but  for  the  most  part  she  was 
busily  silent. 

And  in  the  exquisiteness  of  her  inno- 
cence she  was  weaving  the  spell  of  the 
centuries  with  the  stitches  in  her  long 
seams.  There  are  yet  left  in  the  world  a 
few  of  the  elemental  women  whose  na- 
tures are  what  they  were  originally  insti- 
tuted and  Caroline  Darrah  was  unfolding 
her  predestinated  self  as  naturally  as  a 
flower  unfolds  in  the  warmth  of  the  spring 
sunshine.  The  cooking  for  David  and  An- 
drew, the  sewing  for  busy  Phoebe,  the 


228    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

tactfully  daughterly  attentions  to  the  ma- 
jor and  Mrs.  Matilda  were  all  avenues  for 
the  outpouring  of  the  maturing  woman 
within,  and  powerless  in  his  enchantment, 
Andrew  Sevier  was  swept  along  on  the 
tide  of  her  tenderness. 

One  day  she  had  picked  up  his  heavy 
gray  gloves  from  the  table  and  tightened 
the  buttons,  listening  all  the  while  to  an 
absorbing  account  of  a  counter-move  he 
was  planning  for  the  next  day's  editorial, 
and  then  had  been  delightfully  confused 
and  distressed  by  his  gratitude.  The  little 
scene  had  sent  him  to  the  bare  fields  to 
fight  for  hours. 

The  major  fairly  gloried  in  her  knowl- 
edge of  the  arrangement  of  his  library 
and  delighted  her  with  quick  requests  for 
his  books  during  the  most  absorbing  mo- 
ments of  their  discussions. 

And  again  the  observation  that  the  spell 
was  not  being  woven  for  him  alone  went 


THE    SPELL  229 

far  to  the  undoing  of  Andrew  Sevier. 
Her  interest  in  the  affairs  of  David  Kil- 
dare  disturbed  him  not  at  all,  but  her  sym- 
pathetic and  absorbed  attention  to  a  bad- 
luck  tale  with  which  Hobson  Capers  re- 
ported to  the  major  one  morning  when  she 
sat  with  them,  had  sent  him  home  in  a 
most  depressed  state  of  mind,  and  the  pic- 
ture of  her  troubled  eyes  raised  to  Hob- 
son's  as  he  recounted  the  details  of  the 
wrenched  shoulder  of  his  favorite  horse, 
followed  him  through  the  day  with  tor- 
menting displeasure,  though  the  offer  of  a 
cut-glass  bottle  full  of  a  delightfully 
scented  lotion  for  the  amelioration  of  the 
suffering  animal  brought  the  semblance 
of  a  grin.  And  Hob,  the  brute,  had  gone 
away  with  it  in  his  pocket,  accompanied 
by  explicit  directions  as  to  its  application 
by  means  of  a  soft  bit  of  flannel  the  size 
of  a  pocket  handkerchief,  also  provided. 
Andrew  Sevier  had  a  vision  of  the  bottle 


230    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

and  the  rag  being  installed  in  the  most 
holy  of  holies  in  the  apartments  of  Hob- 
son  Capers  and  experienced  a  sweeping 
smashing  rage  thereat. 

A  day  or  two  later  a  scene  he  had  wit- 
nessed in  the  kitchen,  in  which  Caroline 
and  Tempie  hung  anxiously  over  a  sim- 
mering pan  of  lemon  juice,  sugar,  rye 
whisky  and  peppermint  which,  when  it 
arrived  at  the  proper  sirupy  condition, 
was  to  be  administered  as  a  soothing  po- 
tion to  the  hoarse  throat  of  Peyton  Ken- 
drick,  who  perched  croaking  on  a  chair 
close  by,  drove  him  to  seeking  comfort 
from  Phoebe  much  to  her  apparent  amuse- 
ment but  secret  perturbation,  for  Phoebe 
both  comprehended  and  feared  the  situa- 
tion. 

And  thus  there  is  also  much  of  the  prim- 
itive left  in  the  heart  of  the  modern  man 
on  which  the  elemental  forces  work. 

Then  the   day  for  the  election  came 


THE    SPELL  231 

nearer  and  nearer  by  what  seemed 
fleeting  hours.  The  whole  city  was  thor- 
oughly aroused  and  fighting  hard  under 
one  banner  or  the  other.  As  the  last  week 
drew  to  a  close  and  left  only  the  few  days 
of  the  following  week  for  a  round-up  of 
the  forces  before  the  Wednesday  election, 
the  men  all  became  absorbed  to  the  point 
of  oblivion  to  everything  save  the  specu- 
lation as  to  how  the  race  would  go.  But  it 
was  not  in  the  nature  of  David  Kildare 
to  be  held  against  the  grindstone  of  serious 
endeavor  too  long  at  a  time,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  turmoil  he  proceeded  to  plot 
for  a  brief  and  exciting  relaxation  for 
himself  and  his  strenuous  friends,  and  he 
chose  Saturday  for  the  accomplishment 
thereof. 

The  morning  dawned  in  a  fluff  of  gray 
fog  that  hung  low  down  over  the  avenue, 
though  the  sun  showed  signs  of  soon 
piercing  the  gloom.  The  clash  and  clatter 


of  the  city  was  fast  approaching  a  noon- 
day roar  but  still  Phoebe  slept  in  the  room 
which  adjoined  that  of  Caroline  Darrah 
OBrown. 

Caroline  cautiously  opened  the  door  and 
stole  in  gently  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  then 
paused  and  looked  down  with  delight. 
Phoebe,  asleep,  was  a  thing  calculated  to 
bring  delight  to  any  beholder.  The  bril- 
liant, casual,  insouciant,  worldly  Phoebe 
had  gone  out  on  a  dream-hunt  and  a  de- 
licious curled-up  flower  lay  in  her  place, 
with  turned  lashes  dipping  against  soft 
tinted  cheeks.  Her  head  rested  on  one 
bare  white  arm  and  one  hand  curled  under 
her  daintily  molded  chin.  Caroline 
caught  her  breath — this  was  a  pathetic 
Phoebe  when  one  thought  of  the  most 
times  Phoebe,  cool,  self-reliant — perforce! 

"The  darling,"  she  whispered  to  herself 
as  she  slipped  to  her  knees  by  the  low  bed, 
"I  can't  bear  to  wake  her,  but  I'm  afraid 


"  The  darling !    1  can't  bear  to  wake  her." 


THE    SPELL  233 

not  to;  it's  an  hour  late  already.  Dear!" 
She  slipped  her  arm  under  the  glossy  head 
and  pressed  a  little  kiss  on  the  dimple  over 
the  northeast  corner  of  the  warm  lips. 

Phoebe's  gray  eyes  smiled  themselves 
open  for  a  fraction  of  a  second,  then  she 
nestled  to  Caroline's  shoulder  and  calmly 
drifted  off  again  in  pursuit  of  the  dream. 

"Dearie,"  Caroline  begged,  "it's  after 
ten!" 

Phoebe  sighed,  nestled  closer  and 
drifted  again.  Caroline  settled  herself 
against  the  pillows  and  pressed  her  cheek 
against  the  thick  black  braid  that  curled 
across  the  sleeper's  bare  shoulder.  She 
was  incapable  of  another  combat  with  the 
sleep-god  and  decided  to  wait.  Besides, 
the  awake  Phoebe  was  busy — and  elusive 
— not  given  to  bestowing  or  receiving 
aught  save  the  most  fleeting  caresses.  So 
for  a  few  moments  Caroline  Darrah's 
arms  held  her  hungrily. 


234    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"Be-autiful,"  came  in  a  sleepy  voice 
from  against  her  arm,  "is  the  water  cold?" 

"Awful  this  morning,"  answered  Caro- 
line tightening  her  arms.  "Just  a  little 
hot,  Phoebe,  please!  I'll  tell  Annette." 

"No,"  answered  Phoebe,  as  with  a  whirl 
of  the  covers  she  sat  up  and  took  her  knees 
into  her  embrace.  "No,  sweetie,  in  I  go! 
The  colder  the  better  after  I'm  in.  How 
grand  and  Burne-Jonesy  you  look  in  that 
linen  pinafore — indulging  in  the  life  do- 
mestic? I  think  I  catch  a  whiff  of  your 
culinary  atmosphere — and,  oh,  I — am  so 
— hungry." 

"Tempie  has  a  dear  little  plump  bird 
for  you  and  some  waffles  and  an  omelet. 
Let  me  have  Annette  bring  them  to  you 
here!  Please,  Phoebe,  please!" 

"Caroline  Darrah  Brown,"  said  Phosbe 
in  a  tragic  voice,  "do  you  know  I  gained 
a  pound  and  a  quarter  last  week  and  that 
makes  me  three  and  a  half  pounds  past 


THE    SPELL  235 

the  danger-mark?  Two  raw  eggs  and  an 
orange  is  all  I  can  have  this  morning.  I'm 
going  to  cry,  I  think !" 

"No,"  answered  Caroline  Darrah  posi- 
tively, "you  are  going  to  eat  that  bird  and 
the  omelet.  You  may  substitute  dry  toast 
for  the  waffle  if  Tempie  will  let  you.  She's 
angry,  and  I'm  in  trouble.  She  won't  use 
that  recipe  I  got  from  your  Mammy  Kit- 
ty to  make  the  cake  I  promised  David 
Kildare  for  tea.  She  says  she  and  her 
family  have  been  making  Buchanan  cake 
ever  since  there  was  any  cake  and  she  is 
not  going  to  begin  now  making  Donelson 
mixtures.  I  think  I  hurt  her  feelings. 
What  must  I  do?" 

"Let  her  alone,  she  has  the  right  of  it 
and  the  cake  is  sure  to  be  just  as  good," 
laughed  Phoebe. 

"But  I  promised  him  it  should  be  just 
like  the  one  you  gave  us  the  other  after- 
noon, only  with  the  icing  and  nuts  thicker 


236    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

than  the  cake,"  answered  Caroline  in  real 
distress.  "He  says  that  Mr.  Sevier  likes 
it  that  way,  too,"  she  added  ingenuously. 

"Caroline  Darrah,  you  spoil  those  men 
to  the  most  outrageous  extent.  It's  like 
David  to  want  his  icing  and  nuts  thicker 
than  the  cake;  he  always  does — and  gets 
it,  but  it  isn't  good  for  him."  As  Phoebe 
spoke  she  smiled  at  Caroline  Darrah  in- 
dulgently. 

"I  can't  help  it,  Phoebe,"  she  answered 
with  the  rose  wave  mounting  under  her 
eyes.  "I'm  stupid — I  don't  know  how  to 
manage  them.  I'm  just — fond  of  them." 

For  a  second  Phoebe  regarded  her  from 
under  veiled  eyes,  then  said  guardedly, 
"Doesn't  that  give  them  rather  the  advan- 
tage to  start  with — if  you  let  them  find  it 
Out?" 

*  "Yes,"  answered  Caroline  as  she  pressed 
her  cheek  against  Phoebe's  arm,  "I  know 


THE    SPELL  237 

it  does  but  I  can't  help  it.  I  have  to  trust 
to  them  to  understand." 

For  a  moment  Phoebe  was  silent  and 
across  her  mind  there  flashed  David's  de- 
scription of  a  man  who  sat  into  the  gray 
dawn  fighting  his  battle — his  own  and  hers 
— a  man  who  wouldn't  run! 

"Perhaps  that's  the  best  way  after  all, 
dearie,"  she  said  as  she  prepared  to  slip 
out  of  bed.  "Only  it  takes  the  exceptional 
woman  to  get  results  from  your  method. 
It  ought  to  work  with  David ;  others  don't 
seem  to!" 

"Phoebe,  Phoebe  —  why  —  why?"  and 
Caroline  caught  and  held  Phoebe  for  a  few 
seconds.  "Don't  you  care  at  all?" 

"Yes,  child — a  lot!  Having  admitted 
which  I  will  betake  myself  to  the  plunge 
— leaving  you  to  finish  the  cake  for  the 
precious  thing."  In  a  second  Phoebe 
smiled  back  from  the  door: 


238    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"Just  one  little  waffle,  tell  Tempie,"  she 
said.  "And  I'm  due  to  make  a  lightning 
toilet  if  I  get  to  that  Woman's  Guild 
meeting  at  eleven-thirty.  Call  the  office 
for  me  and  tell  them  not  to  send  Freckles 
until  one-thirty  to-day.  And,  dearie, 
please  call  Polly  and  tell  her  to  be  sure 
and  go  to  that  meeting  of  the  Daughters 
of  the  Colonies  so  she  can  tell  me  what 
happens.  Tell  her  to  get  it  all  straight — 
names  and  all  and  I  will  phone  her.  And 
not  to  let  them  office  or  committee  me  just 
because  I'm  not  there!  You  are  a  dear!" 

Caroline  smiled  happily  as  she  went 
back  to  the  mixing  of  the  confection  of 
affection  to  be  administered  to  David 
with  his  tea  as  by  request,  and  she  laughed 
as  she  heard  Phoebe's  mighty  splash. 

And  a  half -hour  later,  during  the  dis- 
cussion of  the  plump  bird  and  the  one 
crisp  waffle,  David  Kildare  whirled  in, 
beaming  with  joy  over  his  plans.  In  fact 


THE    SPELL  239 

he  failed  to  manage  anything  in  the  way 
of  a  formal  greeting. 

"Girls!"  he  exclaimed  from  the  door- 
way, "the  hunt  is  on  for  to-night!  Every- 
body hurry  up!  Caroline,  Mrs.  Matilda 
wants  you  to  motor  out  with  her  to  the 
Forks  to  see  about  having  Jeff  and  Tem- 
pie  get  ready  for  the  supper  cooking — 
barbecue,  birdies  and  the  hot  potato! 
Milly  and  Billy  Bob  are  going  and  Polly 
and  that  Boston  lad  of  yours,  Caroline — 
yours  if  you  can  hold  him,  which  I  don't 
think  you  can.  And  Mrs.  Matilda  says — " 

"Stop,"  demanded  Phoebe,  "and  tell  us 
what  you  are  talking  about,  David." 

"I'm  surprised  at  you,  Phoebe,  for  be- 
ing so  dense,"  answered  David  with  a  de- 
lighted grin  at  having  created  a  flurry. 
"Didn't  you  hear  me  tell  Caroline  Darrah 
Brown  at  least  a  week  ago  that  possums 
and  persimmons  are  ripe  and  that  the  first 
night  after  a  rain  and  a  fog  we  would  all 


240    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

turn  out  and  show  her  how  to  shake  down 
a  few?  The  whole  glad  push  is  going. 
Mrs.  Matilda  and  I  decided  it  an  hour  ago 
while  you  were  still  asleep.  I've  tele- 
phoned everybody — possums  and  persim- 
mons wait  for  no  man." 

"How  perfectly  delightful,"  said  Caro- 
line with  eyes  agleam  with  enthusiasm. 
"Can  everybody  go?"  David  had  failed  to 
mention  Andrew  Sevier  in  his  enumera- 
tion, an  omission  that  she  had  instantly 
caught. 

"Yes,"  answered  David,  "everybody 
that  had  engagements  we  asked  the  en- 
gagement to  go,  too.  Even  Andy  is  go- 
ing to  cut  the  poems  for  the  lark!  Thuse 
up  a  little,  Phoebe,  please — give  us  the 
smile!  I'm  backing  you  to  shake  down 
ten  possums  against  anybody's  possible 
five." 

"I  don't  think  that  I  can  go,"  answered 
Phoebe  quietly.  "Mrs.  Cherry  has  the 


THE    SPELL  241 

president  of  the  Federation  of  Women's 
Clubs  staying  with  her  and  I'm  going  to 
dine  there  to-night  to  discuss  the  suffrage 
platform."  There  was  a  cool  note  in 
Phoebe's  voice  and  a  sudden  seriousness 
had  come  into  her  expression. 

"Now,  Phoebe,"  answered  David,  look- 
ing down  at  her  with  the  quickly  concealed 
tenderness  that  always  flashed  up  in  his 
eyes  when  he  spoke  directly  to  her,  "do 
you  suppose  for  one  minute  that  I  hadn't 
fixed  all  that  the  first  thing?  Mrs.  Cherry 
held  back  a  bit  but  I  rabbit-footed  the  old 
lady  into  being  wild  to  go  and  then  whee- 
dled the  correct  hostess  some;  and  there 
you  are!  Caroline  is  to  send  them  out  in 
her  motor  and  I'm  going  to  make  Hob 
and  Tom  chase  the  possum  in  company 
of  the  merry  widow  and  Mrs.  'Big  Bug. 
Now  give  me  a  glad  word!" 

"I'll  see,"  answered  Phoebe.  "I  can  let 
you  know  by  two  o'clock  whether  I  can 


go,"  and  as  she  spoke  she  gathered  up  her 
gloves  and  bag  and  settled  her  trim  hat 
by  a  glance  at  the  long  mirror  across  the 
room. 

"What — what  did  you  say?"  demanded 
David  aghast  in  a  second.  "If  you  think 
for  one  minute  that  I'm  going  to  stand 
for—" 

"But  you  must  remember  that  my  busi- 
ness engagements  must  always  be  settled 
before  I  can  make  social  ones — at  two 
o'clock  then!  Good-by,  Caroline,  dear, 
such  a  comfy  night  under  your  care !  I'm 
going  to  stop  in  the  library  to  speak  to 
the  major  and  then  on  to  the  guild  if  any 
one  calls.  Here's  to  you  bothl"  and  she 
coolly  tipped  them  a  kiss  from  the  ends  of 
her  fingers. 

"Caroline,"  remarked  David,  "I  reckon 
I  must  have  giggled  too  loud  in  my  cra- 
dle, and  the  Lord  turned  around  and  made 
Phoebe  to  settle  my  glee,  don't  you  think?" 


THE    SPELL  243 

And  as  Caroline  saw  him  depart  with  his 
usual  smile  and  jest  she  little  realized  that 
a  jagged  wound  ran  across  his  blithe 
heart. 

The  David  within  was  awakening  and 
developing  a  highly  sensitized  nature, 
which  caught  Phoebe's  note  of  disap- 
proval, divined  its  reason  and  winced  un- 
der the  humiliation  of  its  distrust.  The 
old  David  would  have  laughed,  chaffed 
her  and  gone  his  way  rejoicing — the  new 
David  suffered,  for  a  deeply-loved  woman 
can  inflict  a  wound  on  the  inner  man  that 
throbs  to  the  depths. 

Across  the  hall  Phoebe  found  the  ma- 
jor at  his  table  and,  as  usual,  buried  in  his 
books.  He  was  reading  one  and  holding 
another  open  in  his  hand  while  his  pen 
balanced  itself  over  a  page  for  a  note. 
Phoebe  hesitated  on  the  threshold,  loath  to 
disturb  his  feast.  But  before  she  could  re- 
treat he  glanced  up  and  his  smile  flashed 


244    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

a  welcome  and  an  invitation  to  her,  while 
his  books  fell  together  as  he  rose  and  held 
out  his  hands. 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  "I  was  just  reading 
what  Bob  Browning  says  about  a  'pearl 
and  a  girl' — and  thinking  of  you  when 
up  I  look  to  behold  you." 

"Thank  you,  and  good  morning,  Ma- 
jor," returned  Phoebe  as  a  slow  smile 
spread  over  her  grave  face.  "I  won't  dis- 
turb you,  for  I've  only  a  moment!  This 
hunt  to-night — it — it  troubles  me.  Has 
David  forgotten  that  he  is  to  make  a 
speech  on  the  cutting  of  the  conduit  over 
in  the  sixteenth  ward  at  half -past  seven 
o'clock?  It  is  one  of  his  most  important 
appointments  and — " 

"Phoebe,"  answered  the  major  as  he 
balanced  his  pen  on  one  long  lean  finger, 
"do  you  suppose  that  women  will  ever 
learn  that  men  could  dispense  with  them 
entirely  after  their  second  year — if  it 


THE    SPELL  245 

wasn't  for  the  loneliness?  I  see  David 
Kildare  failed  to  make  a  sufficiently  full 
apron-string  report  to  you  this  morning 
of  his  intentions  for  the  day." 

"Sometimes,  Major,  you  are  completely 
horrid,"  answered  Phoebe  with  both  a 
smile  and  a  spark  in  her  eyes,  "but  I  do 
care — that  is,  I'm  interested,  and — " 

"It  seems  to  me,"  the  major  filled  in  the 
pause,  "that  you  are  a  trifle  short  on  a 
woman's  long  suit — patience.  Now  in  the 
case  of  David  Kildare,  you  don't  want  to 
give  him  one  moment  of  tortoise  speed 
but  must  keep  him  pacing  with  the  hare 
entirely.  Remember  the  result  of  that 
race?" 

"But  I  want  him  to  win — he  must!  I 
think—" 

"Did  you  hear  that  speech  he  made  to 
the  motley  and  their  friends  last  Monday 
night?  That  was  as  fine  an  interpretation 
of  the  ethics  involved  in  the  enforcement 


246    ANDREW    THE   GLAD 

of  law  as  I  have  ever  heard  or  read — de- 
livered to  simple  minds  unversed  in  the 
science  ethical.  He  landed  hot  shot  into 
the  very  stronghold  of  the  enemy  and  his 
audience  saw  his  points.  I  find  the  mind 
of  David  Kildare  rather  well  provisioned 
with  the  diverse  ammunition  needed  in  po- 
litical warfare.  The  whisky  ring  is  mak- 
ing a  stand  and  fighting  the  inches  of  re- 
treat. I  believe  it  to  be  retreat  1" 

"But  can  it  be,  Major?  Andrew  says 
that  money  is  pouring  into  the  city,  even 
from  other  states.  They  intend  to  buy  the 
election,  come  what  will.  How  can  a  gen- 
tleman fight  such  a  thing  with  'not  a  dol- 
lar spent'  announcement?" 

"Phrebe,"  said  the  major  with  the  quick 
illumination  of  one  of  his  challenging 
smiles,  "y°u  can  generally  depend  on  the 
Almighty  to  back  the  right  man  when  he's 
fighting  the  right  fight.  Suppose  you  put 
up  a  little  faith  on  the  event — be  some- 


THE    SPELL  247 

thing  of  a  sporting  character  and  back 
David  to  win.  Backing  thoughts  help  in 
the  winnings  they  tell  us  these  days." 

"I  have,  Major — I  am — I  do,  but  this 
hunt  to-night  positively  —  positively 
frightens  me.  It  seemed  so — so  regardless 
of  consequences — so  trivial  and — and  in- 
consequent that — "  Phoebe  paused  and 
the  major  was  astonished  to  see  that  she 
was  veiling  tears  with  her  thick  black 
lashes. 

"Phoebe,  child,"  he  said  as  he  bent  over 
quickly  and  laid  his  hand  on  hers,  "I  ought 
to  have  answered  you  sooner.  He  is  pre^ 
pared  to  make  the  speech  of  his  life  to- 
night at  seven-thirty,  but  at  ten  he  joins 
his  friends  to  hunt.  Didn't  you  draw 
your  conclusions  hurriedly — and  against 
David?" 

In  a  second  the  tightness  in  Phoebe's 
throat  relaxed  and  the  tears  flowed  back 
to  their  source,  only  one  little  splash  jew- 


248    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

eled  her  cheek  that  had  flamed  into  a 
blush  of  joy  and  contrition. 

"Ah,"  she  said  softly  as  she  drew  a  deep 
breath,  "I  am  so  glad — glad!  ...  I 
must  hurry,  for  I'm  an  hour  late  already. 
Good-by!" 

"Good-by,  and  remember  that  faith  is 
one  of  the  by-products  of  affection.  And 
I  might  add  that  the  right  kind  of  faith 
finds  tactful  ways  of — of  admission.  Do 
you  see?"  And  the  major  held  her  hand 
long  enough  to  make  Phoebe  look  into  his 
kind  eyes. 

And  from  the  ten  minutes  in  the  library 
of  Major  Buchanan  the  disciplining  of 
the  heart  of  Phoebe  Donelson  began  and 
was  carried  on  with  utter  relentlessness. 
The  first  castigation  occurred  when  David 
failed  to  phone  her  at  two  o'clock,  and  a 
half-hour  later  Caroline  Darrah  called 
anxiously  to  know  her  decision  and  impart 
the  information  that  David  had  arranged 


THE    SPELL  249 

that  she  and  Phoebe  go  out  to  the  fork 
in  her  car  with  Mrs.  Buchanan.  Phoabe, 
to  her  own  surprise,  found  that  she  in- 
tensely desired  another  arrangement  that 
involved  David  and  his  small  electric,  but 
she  received  the  blow  with  astonishing 
meekness  and  delighted  Caroline  with  her 
enthusiastic  acquiescence  in  the  plans  for 
the  evening. 

And  so  through  the  busy  afternoon 
while  David  Kildare  met  committees,  sent 
in  reports  and  talked  over  plans,  he  also 
managed  to  sandwich  in  the  settling  of 
numerous  little  details  that  went  to  make 
good  the  night's  sport.  And  it  was  all 
done  in  apparent  high  spirits  but  with  an 
indignant  pain  in  his  usually  glad  heart. 

Meanwhile  Caroline  Darrah,  in  a  whirl 
of  domestic  excitement  incident  to  the  pre- 
paring of  a  hamper  for  the  midnight 
lunch  out  on  the  ridge,  which  she  had  en- 
treated Mrs.  Matilda  to  leave  entirely  to 


250    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

her  newly-acquired  housewifery,  stepped 
into  the  middle  of  the  pool  political  and 
never  knew  it,  in  the  innocence  of  her  old- 
fashioned  woman's  heart. 

"Miss  Ca'line,"  ventured  Jeff  as  he  as- 
sisted her  in  packing  the  huge  hamper 
that  occupied  the  center  of  the  dining- 
room  tahle,  "is  Mister  Dave  sure  'pirated 
to  be  jedge  of  the  criminal  court — he  ain't 
a- joking  is  he?" 

"Why,  no,  indeed,  Jeff,"  answered 
Caroline  Darrah  as  she  rolled  sandwiches 
in  oiled  paper  before  putting  them  into  a 
box.  "What  made  you  think  that?" 

"Well,  it's  a  kinder  poor  white  folksy 
job  fer  him,  fooling  with  crap-shooting 
niggers  and  whisky  soaks,  but  if  he  wants 
it  he's  got  ter  have  it,  hear  me !  And  Miss 
Ca'line,  some  of  us  colored  set  has  made 
up  our  minds  that  it's  time  fer  us  ter  git 
out  and  dust  ter  help  him.  You  see  this 
here  is  a  independent  race  and  it's  who  gits 


THE    SPELL  251 

the  votes,  no  'Publican  er  Dimocrat  to  it. 
That  jest  naterally  turns  the  colored  vote 
loose  at  the  polls.  And  fer  the  most  of  the 
black  fools  it's  who  bids  the  mostes,  I'm 
sorry  ter  say,  as  is  the  fact." 

"But  you  know  Mr.  David  has  said 
from  the  first  that  he  will  not  buy  a  vote. 
Will  he  have  to  lose — how  many  of  the 
colored  people  are  there — oh,  Jeff,  will  he 
have  to  be  beaten?"  Caroline  Darrah 
clasped  a  sandwich  to  the  death  in  her 
hands  and  questioned  the  negro  with  the 
same  faith  that  she  would  have  used  in 
questioning  Major  Buchanan. 

"No,  ma'am,  he  ain't  going  ter  git  nig- 
ger-beat if  we  can  help  it — us  society  col- 
ored set,  you  understand,  Miss  Ca'line." 
Jeff's  manner  was  an  interesting  mixture 
of  pomposity  and  deference. 

"I  don't  quite  understand,  Jeff;  you  ex- 
plain to  me,"  answered  Caroline  Darrah 
in  the  kind  and  respectful  voice  that  she 


252    ANDREW   THE   GLAD 

always  used  to  these  family  servants, 
which  they  understood  perfectly  and  in 
which  they  took  a  huge  delight. 

"Well,  it's  jest  this  way,  Miss  Ca'line, 
they  is  sets  in  the  colored  folks  jest  like 
they  is  in  the  white  folks.  We  is  the  it  set, 
me  and  Tempie  and  Eph  and  all  the  fust 
family  people.  We's  got  our  lawyers  and 
dentists  and  a  university  and  a  ice-cream 
parlor  with  the  swellest  kinder  soda  fount 
in  front.  You  heard  how  Mister  David 
got  that  Country  Club  for  us,  didn't  you? 
Well,  he  backed  the  rent  notes  of  the  soda 
fount,  too — and  he's  jest  naterly  the  fust 
set  candidate  f er  anything  he  wants  ter 
be." 

"Isn't  he  just  the  kindest  best  man, 
Jeff?"  asked  Caroline  Darrah,  in  her  en- 
thusiasm sacrificing  a  frosted  muffin  cake 
between  her  clasped  hands. 

"Yes'm,  he  am  that  f  er  a  fact,  and  they 


THE    SPELL  253 

can't  no  low-down  whisky  bum  beat  him 
fer  jedge,  neither — 'specially  ef  they 
count  on  using  niggers  to  do  it  with.  You 
see  the  race  am  so  mighty  close,  that  all 
the  booze  bosses  is  a  telling  the  niggers 
that  they  is  got  the  'ballunce  uf  power'  as 
they  calls  it  and  it's  up  ter  them  ter  elect 
a  jedge  fer  whisky,  the  friend  'at'll  let 
'em  drink  it  down.  Why,  they's  got  out  a 
bottle  of  whisky  as  has  on  the  label  'Your 
Colored  Friend',  and  it's  put  up  in  clear 
glass  and  at  the  bottom  you  can  see  five 
new  dimes  a-shining.  A  nigger  gits  the 
bottle  and  the  fifty  cents  ef  he  votes  with 
them.  Old  Booze  is  flinging  money  right 
and  left,  fer  if  Mister  David  gits  in  he'll 
shore  have  ter  git  out." 

"That  is  perfectly  awful,  Jeff!"  ex- 
claimed Caroline  with  horror-stricken 
eyes.  "The  poor  people  made  to  sell  them- 
selves that  way — and  the  whole  city  to  lose 


254    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

David,  a  good  judge,  because  they  can't 
know  what  they  do.  It  is  horrible  and  no- 
body can  help  it!" 

"I  ain't  so  sure  about  that,  Miss  Ca'- 
line!  Me  and  Tempie  and  Doctor  Pike 
Johnson  and  the  dentist  and  Bud  Simms, 
the  man  what  runs  the  Palms,  have 
thought  up  a  scheme  ef  we  kin  work  it. 
You  see  they  ain't  a  nigger  from  Black 
Bottom  to  Mount  Nebo  as  wouldn't  sell 
his  soul  ter  git  ter  the  Country  Club  and 
say  he's  been  invited  there.  Now,  we 
thought  as  how  it  would  be  a  good  plan  ter 
give  it  out  that  we  was  going  to  have  er 
David  Kildare  jedge  celebration  out  there 
and  have  invertation  tickets  printed.  Then 
we  could  go  ter  the  polls  and  fight  down 
any  dollar  bottle  of  whisky  ever  put  up 
with  one  of  them  invites — every  man  ter 
bring  a  lady,  and  dancing  down  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  card.  We'd  scotch  them  by  say- 
ing no  'lection,  no  dance,  so  they'll  vote 


THE    SPELL  255 

straight.  Ain't  that  the  swell  scheme? 
It'll  work  if  we  can  make  it  go." 

"Jeff,"  she  exclained,  "that  is  a  per- 
fectly splendid  idea !  You  must  do  it,  for 
offering  them  fun  will  be  no  bribery  like 
whisky  and  money — it  will  do  them 
good."  Sometimes  it  is  just  as  well  that  a 
woman  be  not  too  well  versed  in  the  sci- 
ence logical. 

"Yes'm,  and  I  believe  it  will  work — ef 
we  jest  had  a  barbecue  to  put  down  in  the 
other  corner  opposite  the  dancing  I  know 
it  would  draw  'em,  but  ice-cream  will  be 
about  all  we  can  git  f er  the  subscription 
money,  and  cold  as  it  is  ice-cream  won't  be 
no  drawing  card." 

And  there  was  no  doubt  that  Jeff  un- 
folded his  plan  to  Caroline  Darrah  from 
pure  love  of  sympathy  and  excitement  and 
for  no  ulterior  purpose,  although  it  served 
to  further  his  schemes  as  well  as  if  he  had 
been  of  a  most  wily  turn  of  mind. 


256    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"Jeff,"  exclaimed  Caroline  Darrah  ex- 
citedly, "how  much  would  it  take  to  have  a 
barbecue  and  ice-cream  and  everything 
good  to  go  with  it  and  a  big  band  of  music 
and  fireworks  and — " 

"Golly,  Miss  Ca'line,  they  will  be  most 
five  hundred  of  'em  and  the  'scription  ain't 
but  a  little  over  fifty  dollars.  I'm  count- 
ing on  the  dancing  and  the  gitting-there 
ter  draw  'em." 

"We  can't  risk  it,"  said  Caroline.  "I 
will  give  you  two  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars and  you  can  let  it  be  known  that  no 
such  celebration  ever  was  as  the  one  his  col- 
ored friends  are  going  to  give  in  honor  of 
the  election  of  Judge  David  Kildare — his 
united  colored  friends,  Jeff,  high  and 
low." 

"Miss  Ca'line,  I'm  a-skeered  to  take  it! 
Mister  David,  he's  jest  naterly — " 

"Mr.  David  need  never  know  about  it. 
It  is  a  subscription  and  you  have  collected 


THE    SPELL  257 

it — advertise  that  fact.  I'm  one  of  his 
friends  and  I  can  subscribe  even  if  I  am 
white.  You  must  take  it,  and  get  to  work 
about  it.  Only  four  more  days,  remember, 
and  we  all  must  work  for  Mr.  David ;  and 
too,  Jeff,  for  those  poor  ignorant  people 
who  would  commit  the  crime  of  letting 
themselves  sell  their  votes."  There  was 
real  concern  for  the  endangered  souls  of 
the  coons  in  Caroline's  voice,  and  Jeff  was 
duly  impressed. 

They  both  fell  to  work  on  the  packing 
of  the  basket  as  Tempie's  voice  was  heard 
in  the  distance,  for  they  knew  she  would 
express  herself  in  no  uncertain  terms  if 
she  found  the  amount  of  work  done  un- 
satisfactory. 

But  when  he  departed,  Jeff  carried  in 
his  pocket  a  slip  of  paper  about  which  it 
nearly  scared  him  to  death  to  think,  and 
one  of  the  money-bags  of  the  late  Peters 
Brown  was  eased  by  the  extraction  of  a 


258    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

quarter  thousand.  Caroline  was  happy 
from  a  clear  conscience  and  a  virtuous 
feeling  of  having  saved  a  crisis  for  a  de- 
pendent and  ignorant  people.  Which  goes 
to  show  that  a  woman  can  put  her  finger 
into  a  political  pie  and  draw  it  out  without 
even  a  stain,  while  to  touch  that  same  con- 
fection ever  so  lightly  would  dye  a  man's 
hand  blood  red. 


CHAPTER  IX 

PURSUING  THE  POSSUM 

AND  as  if  in  sympathy  with  the  heart 
of  the  pursued  possum,  the  thermometer 
began  to  fall  in  the  afternoon  and  by 
night  had  established  a  clear,  cold,  wind- 
less condition  of  weather.  The  start  for 
the  Cliffs  was  to  be  made  from  the  fork 
of  the  River  Road,  where  cars,  horses, 
traps  and  hampers  were  to  be  left  with 
the  servants,  who  by  half  past  nine  were 
already  in  an  excited  group  around  a 
blazing,  dry  oak  fire,  over  which  two  score 
plump  birds  were  ready  to  be  roasted,  at- 
tended by  the  autocratic  Tempie.  Jeff 
piled  high  with  brush  a  huge  log  whose 
heart  was  being  burned  out  for  the  baking 
259 


260    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

of  sundry  potatoes,  while  the  aroma  from 
the  barbecue  pit  was  maddening  to  even 
a  ten  o'clock  appetite,  and  no  estimate 
could  be  made  of  what  damage  would  be 
done  after  the  midnight  return  from  the 
trail  of  the  wily  tree  fruit. 

David  Kildare  as  usual  was  M.  F.  H. 
and  his  voice  rang  out  as  clearly  against 
the  tall  pines,  while  he  welcomed  the  cars 
and  traps  full  of  excited  hunters,  as  if  he 
had  not  been  speaking  in  a  crowded  hall 
for  an  hour  or  two. 

Mrs.  Cherry  Lawrence  arrived  early, 
accompanied  by  the  distinguished  suf- 
fragist, who  was  as  alert  for  sensations 
new  as  if  she  had  been  one  of  an  explora- 
tion party  into  the  heart  of  darkest  Af- 
rica. They  were  attended  by  Tom  and 
also  the  suave  Hobson,  who  was  all  atten- 
tions but  whose  maneuvers  in  the  direction 
of  Caroline  Darrah  were  pitiably  fruit- 
less. He  was  seconded  in  his  attentions 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  261 

to  the  stranger  by  David  with  his  most 
fascinating  manner,  and  Mrs.  Cherry 
sparkled  and  glowed  at  him  with  subdued 
witchery,  while  Tom  sulked  close  at  her 
side. 

Polly  and  young  Boston  had  trailed 
Mrs.  Buchanan's  car  on  horses  and  Phoebe 
was  intent  on  pinning  up  the  debutante's 
habit  skirt  to  a  comfortable  scramble 
length.  Billy  Bob  fairly  bubbled  over 
with  glee  and  Milly,  who  had  come  to  as- 
sist Mrs.  Matilda  in  overlooking  the  prep- 
arations for  the  feast  for  the  returned 
hunters,  was  already  busy  assembling 
hampers  and  cases  on  a  flat  rock  over  be- 
hind the  largest  fire.  Her  anxious  heart 
was  at  rest  about  her  nestlings,  for  Caro- 
line's maid,  Annette,  had  gone  French 
mad  over  the  babies  and  had  begged  the 
privilege  of  keeping  Mammy  Betty  com- 
pany in  her  watch  beside  the  cots. 

"Come   here,    Caroline,    child,"    called 


262    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

David  from  behind  the  farthest  fire,  "let 
me  look  at  you!  Seems  to  me  you  are  in 
for  a  good  freezing."  And  he  drew  her 
into  the  light  of  the  blaze. 

She  was  kilted  and  booted  and  coated 
and  belted  in  the  most  beautiful  and  whol- 
ly correct  attire  for  the  hunt  that  could 
possibly  have  been  contrived ;  that  is,  for  a 
sedate  cross-country  bird  stalk  or  a  decor- 
ous trap  shooting,  but  for  a  long  night 
scramble  over  the  frozen  ground  she  was 
insufficiently  clad.  The  other  girls  all  wore 
heavy  golf  skirts  and  coats  and  were 
muffled  to  their  eyes;  even  the  big-bug 
lady  wore  a  knitted  comforter  high  round 
her  throat.  Without  doubt  Caroline 
would  have  been  in  for  a  cold  deal,  if 
David  had  not  been  more  than  equal  to 
any  occasion. 

"Here,  Andy,  skin  out  of  that  sweater 
and  get  into  that  extra  buckskin  in  my 
electric,"  he  said,  and  forthwith  began 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  263 

without  ceremony  to  assist  Andrew  Sevier 
in  peeling  off  a  soft,  white,  high-collared 
sweater  he  wore,  and  in  less  time  than  it 
took  to  think  it  he  had  slipped  it  over 
Caroline's  protesting  head,  pulled  it 
down  around  her  slim  hips  almost  to 
where  her  kilts  met  her  boots  and  rolled 
the  collar  up  under  her  eyes.  Then  he 
immediately  turned  his  attention  to  the 
arrival  of  the  mongrel  sleuths,  each  ac- 
companied by  a  white-toothed  negro  of  re- 
nowned coon-fighting,  possum-catching 
proclivities,  whom  he  had  assembled  from 
the  Old  Harpeth  to  lead  the  hunt,  thus 
leaving  Caroline  and  Andrew  alone  for 
the  moment  on  the  far  side  of  the  fire. 

"Indeed,  I'm  not  going  to  have  your 
sweater!"  she  protested,  beginning  to  di- 
vest herself  of  the  borrowed  garment,  but 
not  knowing  exactly  how  to  crawl  out  of 
its  soft  embrace. 

"Please,  oh,  please  do!"  he  exclaimed 


quickly,  and  as  he  spoke  he  caught  her 
hand  away,  that  had  begun  to  tug  at  the 
collar. 

"I  wouldn't  keep  it  for  the  world — 
and  have  you  cold,  but — I  can't  get  out," 
she  answered  with  a  laugh.  "Please  show 
me  or  call  for  help." 

And  as  she  pleaded  Andrew  Sevier  tow- 
ered beside  her,  tall  and  slender,  while  the 
cold  breeze  with  its  pine-laden  breath 
ruffled  his  white  shirt-sleeves  across  his 
arms.  Caroline  Darrah  in  the  embrace  of 
his  clinging  apparel  was  a  sight  that  sent 
the  blood  through  his  veins  at  a  rate  that 
warred  with  the  winds,  and  his  eyes  drank 
deeply.  The  color  mounted  under  her 
eyes  and  with  the  unconsciousness  of  a 
child  she  nestled  her  chin  in  the  woolly 
folds  about  the  neck  as  she  turned  her  face 
from  the  firelight. 

"Well,  then,  get  David's  coat  from  the 
car,"  she  pleaded. 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  265 

"Will  you  stand  back  in  the  shadow  of 
that  tree  until  I  do?"  he  asked. 

He  had  caught  across  the  fire  a  glimpse 
of  the  restive  Hobson  and  a  sudden  mad 
desire  prompted  him  to  snatch  this  one  joy 
from  Fate,  come  what  would — just  a  few 
hours  with  her  under  the  winter  stars, 
when  life  seemed  to  offer  so  Little  in  the 
count  of  the  years. 

"Why,  yes,  of  course!  Did  you  think 
I'd  dare  go  out  in  the  dark  alone,  without 
you?"  and  her  joyous  ingenuous  casting 
of  herself  upon  his  protection  was  posi- 
tively poignant.  "Hurry,  please,  because 
I — don't  want  anybody  to  find  me  before 
you  come!"  After  which  request  it  took 
him  very  little  time  to  run  across  the  lot 
and  vault  the  fence  into  the  road  where 
the  electric  stood. 

"It's  so  uncertain  how  things  arrange 
themselves  sometimes,  some  places,"  she 
remarked  to  herself  as  she  caught  sight  of 


266    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

the  movements  of  the  foiled  Hobson, 
whose  search  had  now  become  an  open 
maneuver. 

Suddenly  she  laid  her  cheek  against  the 
arm  of  the  sweater  and  sniffed  it  with  her 
delicate  nose — yes,  there  was  the  unde- 
niable fragrance  of  the  major's  Seven 
Oaks  heart-leaf.  "He  steals  the  tobacco, 
too,"  she  again  remarked  to  herself  as  she 
caught  sight  of  him  skirting  the  fires  as 
he  returned. 

Just  at  this  moment  a  pandemonium  of 
yelps,  barks,  bays  and  yells  broke  forth 
up  the  ravine  and  declared  the  hunt  on. 

"Everybody  follow  the  dogs  and  keep 
within  hearing  distance!  We'll  wait  for 
the  trailers  to  come  up  when  we  tree  be- 
fore we  shake  down!"  shouted  David  as 
with  one  accord  the  whole  company 
plunged  into  the  woods. 

Away  from  the  fire,  the  starlight,  which 
was  beginning  to  be  reinforced  by  the 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  267 

glow  from  a  late  old  moon,  was  bright 
enough  to  keep  the  rush  up  the  ravine, 
over  log  and  boulder,  through  tangle  and 
across  open,  a  not  too  dangerous  foray. 

The  first  hurdle  was  a  six-rail  fence 
that  snaked  its  way  between  a  frozen 
meadow  and  a  woods  lot.  David  stationed 
himself  on  the  far  side  of  the  lowest  and 
strongest  panel  and  proceeded  to  swing 
down  the  girls  whom  Hob  and  Tom  per- 
suaded to  the  top  rail. 

The  champion  for  the  rights  of  women 
took  long  and  much  assistance  for  the 
mount  and  entrusted  her  somewhat  bulky 
self  to  the  strong  arms  of  David  Kildare 
with  a  feminine  dependence  that  almost 
succeeded  in  cracking  those  stalwart  sup- 
ports. 

Polly  climed  two  rails,  put  her  hand  on 
the  top  and  vaulted  like  a  boy  almost  into 
the  embrace  of  young  Massachusetts  and 
together  they  raced  after  the  dogs,  who 


268    ANDREW   THE    GLAD 

were  adding  tumult  to  the  hitherto  pande- 
monium of  the  hot  trail. 

Tom  Cantrell  managed  Mrs.  Cherry 
most  deftly  and  seemed  anxious  to  direct 
David  in  the  landing  though  she  was  most 
willing  to  trust  it  entirely  to  him.  After 
hurrying  Phoebe  to  the  top  rail  he  vaulted 
lightly  to  the  side  of  David  and  departed 
in  haste,  taking  the  reluctant  widow  with 
him  by  main  force. 

Phoebe  perched  herself  on  the  top  of  the 
fence,  which  brought  her  head  somewhat 
above  the  level  of  David's,  and  seemed 
in  no  hurry  to  descend  in  order  to  be  at 
the  shake-down,  which  from  the  shouts 
and  yelps  seemed  imminent. 

"Ready,  or  want  to  rest  a  minute?" 
asked  David  gently;  but  his  eyes  looked 
past  hers  and  there  was  the  shadow  of  re- 
serve in  his  voice. 

"No,"  answered  Phoebe,  "but  you  must 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  269 

be  tired  so  I'll  just  slip  down,"  and  she 
essayed  to  cheat  him  with  the  utmost 
treachery.  David  neither  spoke  nor  looked 
at  her  directly  but  took  her  quietly  in  his 
arms  and  swung  her  to  the  ground  beside 
him. 

Now  this  was  not  the  first  pursuit  of 
the  possum  that  had  been  attended  by 
Phoebe  in  the  company  of  David  Kildare, 
and  she  was  prepared  for  the  audacious 
hint  of  a  squeeze,  with  which  he  usually 
took  his  toll  and  which  she  always  ignored 
utterly  with  reproving  intent;  the  more 
reproving  on  the  one  or  two  occasions  when 
she  had  been  tempted  into  yielding  to 
the  caress  for  the  remotest  fraction  of  a 
second.  But  for  every  snub  in  the  fence 
events  that  had  been  pulled  off  between 
them  in  the  past  years,  David  was  fully 
revenged  by  the  impassive  landing  of 
Phoebe  on  the  dry  and  frozen  grass  at 


270    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

his  side.  Revenged — and  there  was  some- 
thing over  that  was  cutting  into  her  ad- 
amant heart  like  a  two-edge  marble  saw. 

But  Phoebe  had  been  born  a  thorough- 
bred and  it  was  head  up  and  run  as  she 
saw  in  a  second,  so  she  smiled  up  at  him 
and  said  in  a  perfectly  friendly  tone : 

"I  really  don't  think  we'd  better  wait 
for  Caroline  and  Andrew.  Do  let's  hurry, 
for  they've  treed,  and  I  think  those  dogs 
will  go  mad  in  a  moment !"  And  together 
they  disappeared  in  the  woodland. 

Around  a  tall  tree  that  stood  on  the 
slope  of  the  hill  they  found  a  scene  that 
was  uproar  rampant.  Five  maddened 
dogs  gazed  aloft  into  the  gnarled 
branches  of  the  persimmon  king  and 
danced  and  jumped  to  the  accompaniment 
of  one  another's  insane  yelps.  A  half- 
dozen  negro  boys  were  in  the  same  atti- 
tude and  state  of  mind,  and  the  tension 
was  immense. 


PUKSUING  THE  POSSUM  271 

Polly  gasped  and  giggled  and  the  suf- 
frage lady  almost  became  entangled  with 
the  waltzing  dogs  in  her  endeavor  to  sight 
the  quarry. 

"Dar  he  am!"  exclaimed  the  blackest 
satyr,  and  he  pointed  to  one  of  the  lower 
limbs  from  which  there  hung  by  the  tail 
the  most  pathetic  little  bunch  of  bristles 
imaginable.  "Le'me  shake  him  down, 
Mister  David,  I  foun'  him!" 

"All  right,  shin  up,  but  mind  the  limbs," 
answered  David.  "And  you,  Jake,  get 
the  dogs  in  hand !  We  want  to  take  home 
possums,  not  full  dogs!" 

And  like  an  agile  ape  the  darky 
swung  himself  up  and  out  on  the  low  limb. 
"Here  he  come!"  he  shouted,  and  ducked 
to  give  a  jerk  that  shook  the  whole  limb. 

The  dogs  danced  and  Polly  squealed, 
while  the  rotund  lady  managed  to  step  on 
young  Back  Bay's  toes  and  almost  forgot 
to  "beg  pardon,"  but  Mr.  Possum  hung 


272    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

on  by  his  long  rat-tail  with  the  greatest 
serenity. 

"Buck  up  thar,  nigger,  shake  dat  whole 
tree;  dis  here  ain't  no  cake-walk,"  one  of 
his  confreres  yelled,  and  the  sally  was 
caught  with  a  loud  guffaw. 

Thus  urged  the  darky  braced  himself 
and  succeeded  in  putting  the  whole  tree 
into  a  commotion,  at  the  height  of  which 
there  was  a  crash  and  a  scramble  from  the 
top  limb  and  in  a  second  a  ball  of  gray 
fur  descended  on  his  woolly  head,  knocked 
him  off  his  perch  and  crashed  with  him  to 
the  ground.  Then  there  ensued  a  raging 
battle  in  which  were  involved  five  dogs,  a 
long  darky  and  a  ring-tailed  streak  of 
coon  lightning,  which  whirled  and  bit  and 
scratched  itself  free  and  plunged  into  the 
darkness  before  the  astonished  hunters 
could  get  more  than  a  glimpse  of  the 
melee. 

"Coon,  coon!"  yelled  the  negroes,  and 


scattered  into  the  woods  at  the  heels  of 
the  discountenanced  dogs.  Mr.  Possum, 
saved  by  the  stiff  fight  put  up  by  his  ring- 
tailed  woods-brother,  had  taken  this  oppor- 
tunity of  unhanging  himself  and  depart- 
ing into  parts  unknown,  perhaps  a  still 
more  wily  citizen  after  his  threatened  ex- 
tinction. 

In  a  few  minutes  from  up  the  hill 
came  another  tumult,  and  Jake  raised  a 
long  shout  of  "two  possums,"  which 
served  to  hasten  the  scramble  of  the  rest 
of  the  party  through  the  underbrush  to 
a  breathless  pace. 

Another  gray  ball  hung  to  another  limb 
and  this  time  the  derisive  Jake  succeeded 
in  the  shake-down  and  the  bagging  amid 
the  most  breathless  excitement.  It  was  a 
sight  to  see  the  sophisticated  little  animal 
lie  like  dead  and  be  picked  up  and  handled 
in  a  state  of  seeming  lifeless  rigidity — a 
display  of  self-control  that  seemed  to  ar- 


274    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

gue  a  superiority  of  instinct  over  reason. 

After  this  opening  event  the  hunt  swept 
on  with  a  rapidly  mounting  count  and  a 
heavier  and  heavier  bag. 

And,  too,  it  was  just  as  well  that  no  one 
in  particular,  save  the  defrauded  Hobson, 
who  was  obliged  to  conceal  his  chagrin, 
was  especially  mindful  of  the  whereabouts 
of  Caroline  and  the  poet.  In  fact,  it 
would  have  been  difficult  for  them  to  have 
located  themselves  in  answer  to  a  wireless 
inquiry. 

Andrew  had  started  out  from  the  hid- 
ing tree  with  the  intention  of  cutting 
across  the  trail  of  the  hunters  at  right  an- 
gles a  little  up  the  ravine,  and  he  had 
trusted  to  a  six-year-old  remembrance  of 
the  lay  of  the  land  as  he  led  the  way 
across  the  frosty  meadow  and  up  the  ridge 
at  a  brisk  pace.  Caroline  swung  lithely 
along  beside  him  and  in  the  matter  of 
fences  took  Polly's  policy  of  a  hand  up 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  275 

and  then  a  high  vault,  which  made  for 
practically  no  delay.  They  skirted  the 
tangle  of  buck  bushes  and  came  out  on 
the  edge  of  the  cliff  just  as  the  hunt  swept 
by  at  their  feet  and  on  up  the  creek  bed. 
They  were  both  breathless  and  tingling 
with  the  exertion  of  their  climb. 

"There  they  go — left  behind — no  catch- 
ing theml"  exclaimed  Andrew.  "No  pos- 
sum for  you,  and  this  is  your  hunt!  I'm 
most  awfully  sorry!" 

"Don't  you  suppose  they  will  save  me 
one?"  asked  Caroline  composedly,  and  as 
she  spoke  she  walked  to  the  edge  of  the 
bluff  and  looked  down  into  the  dark  ravine 
interestedly. 

"You  don't  want  the  possum,  child,  you 
want  to  see  it  caught.  The  negroes  get 
the  little  beasts ;  it's  the  bagging  that's  the 
excitement!"  Andrew  regarded  her  with 
amused  interest. 

"I  don't  seem  to  care  to  see  things 


276    ANDREW   THE   GLAD 

caught,"  she  answered.  "I'm  always 
sorry  for  them.  I  would  let  them  all  go 
if  I  got  the  chance — all  caught  things." 
A  little  crackle  in  the  bushes  at  her  side 
made  her  move  nearer  to  him. 

"I  believe  you  would — release  any 
'caught  thing' — if  you  could,"  he  said 
with  a  note  of  bitterness  in  his  voice  that 
she  failed  to  detect.  A  cold  wind  swept 
across  the  meadow  and  he  swung  around 
so  his  broad  shoulders  screened  her  from 
its  tingle.  Her  eyes  gazed  out  over  the 
valley  at  their  feet. 

"This  is  the  edge  of  the  world,"  she  said 
softly.  "Do  you  remember  your  little 
verses  about  the  death  of  the  stars?"  She 
turned  and  raised  her  eyes  to  his.  "We 
are  holding  a  death-watch  beside  them  now 
as  the  moon  comes  up  over  the  ridge  there. 
When  I  read  the  poem  I  felt  breathless  to 
get  out  somewhere  high  up  and  away  from 
things — and  watch." 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  277 

"I  was  'high  up'  when  I  wrote  them," 
answered  Andrew  with  a  laugh.  "Look 
over  there  on  the  hill — see  those  two  old 
locusts?  They  are  fern  palms  and  those 
scrub  oaks  are  palmettos.  The  white  frost 
makes  the  meadow  a  lagoon  and  this  rock 
is  the  pier  of  my  bridge  where  I  came  out 
to  watch  one  night  to  test  the  force  of  a 
freshet.  Over  there  the  light  from  Mrs. 
Matilda's  fires  is  the  construction  camp 
and  beyond  that  hill  is  my  bungalow. 
That's  the  same  old  moon  that's  rising  re- 
lentlessly to  murder  the  stars  again.  Do 
you  want  to  stay  and  watch  the  tragedy 
—or  hunt?" 

Without  a  word  Caroline  sank  down 
on  the  dried  leaves  that  lay  in  a  drift  on 
the  edge  of  the  bluff .  Andrew  crouched 
close  beside  her  to  the  windward.  And 
the  ruthless  old  moon  that  was  putting  the 
stars  out  of  business  by  the  second  was  not 
in  the  least  abashed  to  find  them  gazing 


278    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

at  her  as  she  blustered  up  over  the  ridge, 
round  and  red  with  exertion. 

"Were  you  alone  on  that  pier?"  asked 
Caroline  with  the  utmost  naivete,  as  she 
snuggled  down  deeper  into  the  collar  of 
the  sweater. 

"I'm  generally  alone — in  most  ways," 
answered  Andrew,  the  suspicion  of  a 
laugh  covering  the  sadness  in  his  tone.  "I 
seem  to  see  myself  going  through  life 
alone  unless  something  happens — quick!" 
The  bitter  note  sounded  plainly  this  time 
and  cut  with  an  ache  into  her  conscious- 
ness. 

"I've  been  a  little  lonely,  too — always, 
until  just  lately  and  now  I  don't  feel  that 
way  at  all;"  she  looked  at  him  thought- 
fully with  moonlit  eyes  that  were  deep 
like  sapphires.  "I  wonder  why?" 

Andrew  Sevier's  heart  stopped  dead 
still  for  a  second  and  then  began  to  pound 
in  his  breast  as  if  entrapped.  For  the 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  279 

moment  his  voice  was  utterly  useless  and 
he  prayed  helplessly  for  a  meed  of  self- 
control  that  might  aid  him  to  gain  a  sane 
footing. 

Then  just  at  that  moment  the  old  genie 
of  the  forests,  who  gloats  through  the 
seasons  over  myriads  of  wooings  that  are 
carried  on  in  the  fastnesses  of  his  green 
woods,  sounded  a  long,  low,  guttural 
groan  that  rose  to  a  blood-curdling  shriek, 
from  the  branches  just  above  the  head  of 
the  moon-mad  man  and  girl.  For  an  in- 
strument he  used  the  throat  of  an  enraged 
old  hoot-owl,  perturbed  by  the  intrusion 
of  the  noise  of  the  distant  hunt  and  the 
low-voiced  conversation  on  his  wonted 
privacy. 

And  the  experienced  ancient  succeeded 
in  precipitating  the  crisis  of  the  situation 
with  magical  promptness,  for  Caroline 
sprang  to  her  feet,  turned  with  a  shudder 
and  buried  her  head  in  Andrew's  hunt- 


280    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

ing  coat  somewhere  near  the  left  string 
for  cartridge  loops.  She  clung  to  him  in 
abject  terror. 

"Sweetheart!"  he  exclaimed,  giving  her 
a  little  shake,  "it's  only  a  cross  old  owl — 
don't  be  frightened,"  and  he  raised  her 
cheek  against  his  own  and  drew  her 
nearer.  But  Caroline  trembled  and  clung 
and  seemed  unable  to  face  the  situation. 
Andrew  essayed  further  reassurance  by 
turning  his  head  until  his  lips  pressed  a 
tentative  kiss  against  the  curve  of  her 
chin. 

"He  can't  get  you,"  he  entreated  and 
managed  a  still  closer  embrace. 

"Is  he  still  there?"  came  in  a  muffled 
voice  from  against  his  neck  where  Caro- 
line had  again  buried  her  head  at  a  slight 
crackling  from  the  dark  branches  over- 
head. 

"I  think  he  is,  bless  him!"  answered  An- 
drew, and  this  time  the  kiss  managed  a 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  281 

landing  on  the  warm  lips  under  the  eyes 
raised  to  his. 

And  then  ensued  several  breathless  mo- 
ments while  the  world  reeled  around  and 
the  vital  elemental  force  that  is  sometimes 
cruel,  sometimes  kind,  turned  the  wheel 
of  their  universe. 

"I'm  not  frightened  any  more,"  Caro- 
line at  last  managed  to  say  as  she  prepared 
to  withdraw,  not  too  decisively,  from  her 
strong-armed  refuge. 

"He's  still  there,"  warned  Andrew  Se- 
vier  with  a  happy  laugh,  and  Caroline 
yielded  again  for  a  second,  then  drew  his 
arms  aside. 

"Thank  you — I'm  not  afraid  any  more 
— of  anything,"  she  said,  laughing  into 
his  eyes,  "and  I  really  think  we  had  better 
try  to  get  back  to  camp  and  supper,  for 
I  don't  hear  the  dogs  any  longer.  We 
don't  want  to  be  lost  like  the  'babes  in  the 
woods*  and  left  to  die  out  here,  do  we?" 


282    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"Are  you  sure  we  haven't  gone  and 
stumbled  into  heaven,  anyway?"  demand- 
ed Andrew. 

He  then  proceeded  to  roll  the  collar 
of  her  sweater  higher  about  her  ears  and 
to  pull  the  long  sleeves  down  over  her 
hands.  He  even  bent  to  stretch  the  gar- 
ment an  inch  or  two  nearer  the  tops  of  her 
boots. 

"Are  you  cold?"  he  demanded  anxious- 
ly, for  a  stiff  wind  had  risen  and  blew 
upon  them  with  icy  breath. 

"Not  a  single  bit,"  she  answered,  sub- 
mitting herself  to  his  anxious  ministra- 
tions with  her  most  engaging  six-going- 
on-seven  manner.  Then  she  caught  one 
of  his  fumbling  hands  in  hers  and  pressed 
it  to  her  cheek  for  a  moment. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "we  can  never  be  lone- 
ly any  more,  can  we?  I'm  going  to  race 
you  down  the  hill,  across  the  meadow  and 
over  three  fences  to  supper!"  And  before 


I'm  not  afraid  anv  more." 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  283 

he  could  stay  her  she  had  flitted  through 
the  bushes  and  was  running  on  before 
him,  slim  and  fleet. 

He  caught  her  in  time  to  swing  her 
over  the  first  fence  and  capture  an  elusive 
caress.  The  second  barrier  she  vaulted 
and  eluded  him  entirely,  but  from  the  top 
of  the  last  she  bent  and  gave  him  his  kiss 
as  he  lifted  her  down.  In  another  mo- 
ment they  had  joined  the  circle  around 
the  crackling  fire,  where  they  were  greeted 
with  the  wildest  hilarity  and  overwhelmed 
with  food  and  banter. 

"Did  you  people  ever  hear  of  the  man 
who  bought  a  fifty-dollar  coon  dog,  took 
him  out  to  hunt  the  first  night,  almost  cried 
because  he  thought  he  had  lost  him  down 
a  sink  hole,  hunted  all  night  for  him,  came 
home  in  the  daylight  and  found  pup 
asleep  under  the  kitchen  stove?"  demanded 
David  as  he  filled  two  long  glasses  with 
a  simmering  decoction,  from  which  arose 


the  aroma  of  baked  apples,  spices,  and 
some  of  the  major's  eighty-six  corn  heart. 
"Caroline  is  my  point  to  my  little  story. 
Have  you  two  been  sitting  in  Mrs.  Ma- 
tilda's car  or  mine,  or  did  you  roost  for 
a  time  on  the  fence  over  there  in  the 
dark?" 

"Please,  David,  please  hush  and  give 
me  a  bird  and  a  biscuit — I'm  hungry,"  an- 
swered Caroline  as  she  sank  on  a  cushion 
beside  Mrs.  Buchanan. 

"According  to  the  ink  slingers  of  all 
times  you  ought  not  to  be ;  but  Andy  has 
already  got  outside  of  two  sandwiches,  so 
I  suppose  you  are  due  one  small  bird. 
That  cake  is  grand,  beautiful.  I've  put 
it  away  to  eat  all  by  myself  to-morrow. 
Andrew  Sevier  doesn't  need  any.  He 
wouldn't  know  cake  from  corn-pone — he's 
moonstruck." 

Just  at  this  point  a  well-aimed  pine- 
cone  glanced  off  David's  collar  and  he 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  285 

settled  down  to  the  business  in  hand,  which 
was  the  disposal  of  a  bursting  and  per- 
fectly hot  potato,  handed  fresh  from  the 
coals  by  the  attentive  Jeff. 

And  it  was  more  than  an  hour  later 
that  the  tired  hunters  wended  their  way 
back  to  the  city.  Polly  was  so  sleepy  that 
she  could  hardly  sit  her  horse  and  was  in 
a  subdued  and  utterly  fascinating  mood, 
with  which  she  did  an  irreparable  amount 
of  damage  to  the  stranger  within  her  gates 
as  she  rode  along  the  moonlit  pike,  and  for 
which  she  had  later  to  make  answer.  The 
woman's  champion  dozed  in  the  tonneau 
and  only  David  had  the  spirit  to  sing  as 
they  whirled  along. 

Hadn't  Phoebe  stirred  the  sugar  into 
his  cup  of  coffee  and  then  in  an  abso- 
lutely absent-minded  manner  tasted  it  be- 
fore she  had  come  around  the  fire  to  hand 
it  to  him?  It  had  been  a  standing  argu- 
ment between  them  for  years  as  to  a 


286    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

man's  right  to  this  small  attention,  which 
they  both  teased  Mrs.  Matilda  for  be- 
stowing upon  the  major.  It  was  an  in- 
significant, inconsequent  little  ceremony 
in  itself  but  it  fired  a  train  in  David's 
mind,  made  for  healing  the  wound  in 
his  heart  and  brought  its  consequences. 
Another  reconstruction  campaign  began 
to  shape  its  policy  in  the  mind  of  David 
Kildare  which  had  to  do  with  the  mold- 
ing of  the  destiny  of  the  high-headed 
young  woman  of  his  affections,  rather 
than  with  the  amelioration  of  conditions 
in  his  native  city.  So,  high  and  clear  he 
sang  the  call  of  the  mocking-bird  with  its 
ecstasies  and  its  minors. 

But  late  as  it  was,  after  he  had  landed 
his  guests  at  their  doors,  he  had  a  long 
talk  over  the  phone  with  the  clerk  of  his 
headquarters  and  sent  a  half-dozen  tele- 
grams before  he  turned  into  his  room. 
When  he  switched  on  his  lights  he  saw 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  287 

that  Andrew  stood  by  the  window  look- 
ing out  into  the  night.  His  face  was  so 
drawn  and  white  as  he  turned  that  David 
started  and  reached  out  to  lay  a  hand  on 
his  shoulder. 

"Dave,"  he  said,  "I'm  a  blackguard  and 
a  coward — don't  touch  me!" 

"What  is  it,  Andrew?"  asked  David  as 
he  laid  his  arm  across  the  tense  shoulders. 

"I  thought  I  was  strong  and  dared  to 
stay — now  I  know  I'm  a  coward  and 
couldn't  go.  I'll  have  to  sneak  away  and 
leave  her — hurt!"  His  voice  was  low  and 
toned  with  an  unspeakable  scorn  of  him- 
self. 

"Andy,"  asked  David,  as  he  swung 
him  around  to  face  him,  "was  Caroline 
Darrah  too  much  for  you — and  the 
moon?" 

"There's  nothing  to  say  about  it,  David, 
nothing!  I  have  only  made  it  hard  for 
her :  and  killed  myself  for  myself '  for- 


288    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

ever.  She's  a  child  and  she'll  forget. 
You'll  see  to  her,  won't  you?" 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  asked 
David  sternly. 

"Cut  and  run — cowards  always  do,"  an- 
swered Andrew  bitterly.  "I  am  going  to 
stay  and  see  you  through  this  election,  for 
it's  too  late  to  turn  the  press  matters  over 
to  any  one  else — and  I'm  going  to  pray 
to  find  some  way  to  make  it  easier  for  her 
before  I  leave  her.  I'm  afraid  some  day 
she'll  find  out — and  not  understand  why 
I  went." 

"Why  do  you  go,  Andrew?"  asked  Da- 
vid as  he  faced  this  friend  with  compel- 
ling eyes.  "If  it's  pride  that  takes  you, 
better  give  it  up!  It's  deadly  for  you 
both,  for  she's  more  of  a  woman  than  you 
think— she'U  suffer." 

"David,  do  you  think  she  would  have 
me  if  she  knew  what  I  put  aside  to  take 


PURSUING  THE  POSSUM  289 

her — and  his  millions?  Could  Peters 
Brown's  heiress  ever  have  anything  but 
contempt  for  me?  When  it  comes  to  her 
she  must  understand — and  not  think  I 
held  it  against  her!" 

"Tell  her,  Andrew;  let  her  decide!  It's 
her  right  now!" 

"Never,"  answered  Andrew  passionate- 
ly. "She  is  just  beginning  to  lose  some 
of  her  sensitiveness  among  us  and  this  is 
the  worst  of  all  the  things  she  has  felt 
were  between  her  and  her  people.  It  is 
the  only  thing  he  covered  and  hid  from 
her.  I'll  never  tell  her — I'll  go — and  she 
will  forget!"  In  his  voice  there  was  the 
note  of  finality  that  is  unmistakable  from 
man  to  man.  He  turned  toward  his  room 
as  he  finished  speaking. 

"Then,  boy,"  said  David  as  he  held  him 
back  for  a  second  in  the  bend  of  his  arm, 
a  tenderness  in  voice  and  clasp,  "go  if  you 


290    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

must;  but  we've  three  days  yet.  The  gods 
can  get  mighty  busy  in  that  many  hours 
if  they  pull  on  a  woman's  side — which 
they  always  do.  Good  night!" 


CHAPTER  X 

LOVE'S  HOME  AND  ANDEEW  SEVIER 

AND  the  Sabbath  quiet  which  had  de- 
scended on  the  frost- jeweled  city  the 
morning  after  the  hunt  found  the  Bu- 
chanan household  still  deep  in  close-shut- 
tered sleep.  Their  fatigue  demanded  and 
was  having  its  way  in  the  processes  of  re- 
cuperation and  they  all  slept  on  serenely. 
Only  Caroline  Darrah  was  astir  with 
the  first  deep  notes  of  the  early  morning 
bells.  Her  awaking  had  come  with  a  rush 
of  pure,  bubbling,  unalloyed  joy  which 
turned  her  cheeks  the  hue  of  the  rose, 
starred  her  eyes  and  melted  her  lips  into 
heavenly  curves.  In  her  exquisite  inno- 
cence it  never  dawned  upon  her  that  the 
291 


292    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

moments  spent  in  Andrew's  arms  under 
the  winter  moon  were  any  but  those  of 
rapturous  betrothal  and  her  love  had 
flowered  in  confident  happiness.  It  was 
well  that  she  caught  across  the  distance  no 
hint  of  the  battle  that  was  being  waged 
in  the  heart  of  Andrew  Sevier,  for  the 
man  in  him  fought  (for  her)  with  what  he 
deemed  his  honor,  almost  to  the  death — 
but  not  quite,  for  some  men  hold  as  honor 
that  which  is  strong  sinewed  with  self- 
control,  red  blooded  with  courage,  infil- 
trated with  pride  and  ruthlessly  cruel. 

And  so  Caroline  hummed  David's  lit- 
tle serenade  to  herself  as  she  dressed  with- 
out Annette's  assistance  and  smiled  at  her 
own  radiance  reflected  at  her  from  her 
mirrors.  She  had  just  completed  a  most 
ravishing  church  toilet  when  she  heard  the 
major's  door  close  softly  and  she  knew 
that  now  she  would  find  him  before  his 
logs  awaiting  breakfast. 


LOVE'S    HOME  293 

She  blushed  another  tone  more  rosy  and 
her  eyes  grew  shy  at  the  very  thought  of 
meeting  his  keen  eyes  that  always  quizzed 
her  with  such  delight  after  one  of  her  in- 
itiations into  the  sports  or  gaieties  of  this 
new  country.  But  assuming  her  courage 
with  her  prayer-book,  she  softly  descend- 
ed the  stairs,  crossed  the  hall  and  stood 
beside  his  chair  with  a  laugh  of  greeting. 

"Well,"  he  demanded  delightedly 
though  in  a  guarded  tone  with  a  glance 
up  as  if  at  Mrs.  Matilda's  and  Phoebe's 
closed  doors,  "did  you  catch  your  pos- 
sum?" 

"Yes — that  is — no!  I  didn't,  but  some- 
body did  I  think,"  she  answered  with  de- 
licious confusion  in  both  tone  and  appear- 
ance. 

"Caroline  Darrah,"  demanded  the  ma- 
jor, "do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  there  is 
no  certainty  of  anybody's  having  got  a 
result  from  a  foray  of  the  magnitude  of 


294    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

that  last  night?  Didn't  you  even  see  a 
possum?" 

"No,  I  didn't;  but  I  know  they  caught 
some — David  said  so,"  answered  Caroline 
in  a  reassuring  voice. 

"Caroline,"  again  demanded  the  major 
relentlessly,  having  already  had  his  sus- 
picions aroused  by  her  confusion  and 
blushes,  "where  were  you  when  David 
Kildare  caught  those  beasts  that  you  didn't 
see  one?" 

"I  was — was  lost,"  she  answered,  and 
it  surprised  him  that  she  didn't  put  one 
rosy  finger-tip  into  her  mouth,  so  very 
young  was  her  further  confusion. 

"Alone?"  The  major  made  his  demand 
without  mercy. 

"No,  sir,  with  Mr.  Sevier — why,  aren't 
you  going  to  have  breakfast,  Major,  it 
is  almost  church  time?"  and  Caroline  ral- 
lied her  domestic  dignity  to  her  support 
as  she  escaped  toward  Tempie's  domain. 


LOVE'S    HOME  295 

And  the  flush  of  joy  that  had  flamed 
in  her  cheeks  had  lighted  a  glow  in  the 
major's  weather-tanned  old  face  and  his 
eyes  fairly  snapped  with  light.  Could  it 
be  that  the  boy  had  reached  out  for  his 
atonement?  Could  it  be — he  heard  the 
front  door  close  as  the  first  church  bell 
struck  a  deep  note  and  at  that  moment 
Jeff  announced  his  breakfast  as  ready  in 
a  voice  of  the  deepest  exhaustion. 

And  when  Caroline  emerged  from  the 
still  darkened  house  into  the  crisp  air  she 
found  Andrew  Sevier  standing  on  the 
front  steps  waiting  to  walk  into  church 
with  her. 

Her  smile  of  shy  joy  as  she  held  out 
her  hand  to  him  warmed  his  somber  eyes 
for  the  moment. 

"They  are  all  asleep,"  she  whispered 
as  if  even  from  the  street  there  was  dan- 
ger of  awakening  the  tired  hunting  party. 
"The  major  is  keeping  it  quiet  for  them." 


296    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"And  you  ought  to  be  asleep,  too,"  he 
answered  as  they  started  off  at  a  brisk 
pace  down  the  avenue. 

"You  weren't,"  she  laughed  up  at  him, 
and  then  dropped  her  eyes  shyly.  "I  al- 
ways go  to  church,"  she  added  demurely. 

"And  I  suppose  I  counted  on  your 
habit,"  he  said,  utterly  unable  to  control 
the  tenderness  in  voice  or  glance. 

"I  wanted  you  to  go  with  me  to-day — 
I  hoped  you  would  though  you  never 
have,"  she  answered  him  with  a  divine 
seriousness  in  her  lifted  eyes.  "They  are 
all  coming  to  dinner  and  then  you'll  go 
to  the  office,  so  I  hoped  about  this  morn- 
ing." She  was  utterly  lovely  in  her  gen- 
tleness and  a  strange  peace  fell  into  the 
troubled  heart  of  the  man  at  her  side. 

And  it  followed  him  into  the  dim 
church  and  made  the  hour  he  sat  at  her  side 
one  of  holy  healing.  Once  as  they  knelt 
together  during  the  service  she  slipped 


LOVE'S   HOME  297 

her  gloved  hand  into  his  for  an  instant 
and  from  its  warmth  there  flowed  a 
strength  of  which  he  stood  in  dire  need 
and  from  which  he  drew  courage  to  go  on 
for  the  few  days  remaining  before  his 
exile.  Just  to  protect  her,  he  prayed,  and 
leave  her  unhurt,  and  he  failed  to  see  that 
the  humility  and  blindness  of  a  great  love 
were  leading  him  into  the  perpetration  of 
a  great  cruelty,  to  the  undoing  of  them 
both. 

Then  in  the  long  days  that  followed  so 
hunted  was  he  by  his  love  of  her  that  that 
one  hour  of  peace  in  the  Sunday  morning 
was  all  he  dared  give  himself  with  her. 
And  in  her  gentle  trustfulness  it  was  not 
hard  to  make  his  excuses,  for  the  Mon- 
day morning  brought  the  strenuosity  in 
the  career  of  David  Kildare  to  a  state  of 
absolute  acuteness. 

To  the  candidate  the  three  days  were  as 
ten  years  crowded  into  as  many  hours. 


298    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

Down  at  his  headquarters  in  the  Gray 
Picket  rooms  he  stood  firm  and  met  wave 
after  wave  of  fluctuating  excitement  that 
surged  around  him  with  his  head  up,  a 
ring  in  his  laugh  and  an  almost  super- 
human tact. 

As  late  as  Wednesday  noon  there  ap- 
peared before  him  three  excited  Anti-Sa- 
loon League  matrons  with  plans  to  put 
committees  of  ladies  at  all  the  polls  to 
hand  out  lemonade  and  entreaties — per- 
haps threats — to  the  voters  as  they  exer- 
cised their  civic  function.  They  had 
planned  banners  with  "Shall  The  Saloon 
Have  My  Boy?"  in  large  letters  thereon 
inscribed  and  they  were  morally  certain 
that  without  the  carrying  out  of  their  plan 
the  day  would  be  lost.  It  took  David  Kil- 
dare  one  hour  and  a  quarter  to  persuade 
them  that  it  would  be  better  to  have  a  tem- 
perance rally  at  the  theater  on  Wednes- 
day night  at  which  each  of  the  three 


LOVE'S    HOME  299 

should  make  most  convincing  speeches  to 
the  assembled  women  of  the  city,  thereby 
furnishing  arguments  to  their  sisters  with 
which  to  start  the  men  to  the  polls  next 
day. 

He  promised  to  come  and  make  a  short 
opening  speech  and  they  left  him  with 
their  plans  changed  but  their  enthusiasm 
augmented.  David  sank  into  a  chair  and 
mopped  his  shining  brow.  The  major 
had  been  witness  to  the  encounter  from 
the  editorial  desk  and  Cap  Cantrell  was 
bent  double  with  laughter  behind  a  pile 
of  papers  he  was  searching  for  data  for 
Andrew. 

"I'm  all  in,  Major,"  said  David  faintly. 
"Just  pick  up  the  pieces  in  a  basket." 

"David,  sir,"  said  the  major,  "your  con- 
duct of  that  onslaught  was  masterly!  If 
the  hand  that  rocks  the  cradle  rules  the 
world  why  not  the  hand  that  flips  the 
batter-cake  rock  the  ballot-box — cradle 


300    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

out  of  date?  That's  a  little  mixed  but 
pertinent.  I'm  for  letting  them  have  the 
try.  They're  only  crying  because  they 
think  we  don't  want  'em  to  have  it — 
maybe  they'll  go  back  to  the  cradle  and 
rock  all  the  better  for  being  free  citi- 
zens I" 

"And  not  a  cussed  one  of  those  three 
old  lady  cats  has  ever  shown  a  kitten !"  ex- 
ploded Cap  from  behind  his  pile  of  pa- 
pers. 

"Anyway,  the  worst  is  over  now — must 
be!"  answered  David  as  he  began  to  read 
over  some  bulletins  and  telegrams.  But 
he  had  troubles  yet  to  come.  In  the  next 
two  hours  he  had  a  conference  with  the 
head  of  the  chamber  of  commerce  which 
heated  his  blood  to  the  boiling-point  and 
brought  forth  an  ultimatum,  delivered  in 
no  uncertain  terms  but  with  such  perfect 
courtesy  and  cleart-sightedness  that  the 
gentleman  departed  in  haste  to  look  into 


LOVE'S    HOME  301 

certain  matters  which  he  now  suspected  to 
have  been  cooked  to  lead  him  astray. 

This  event  had  been  followed  by  the 
advent  of  five  of  the  old  fellows  who  had 
obtained  furloughs  and  ridden  in  from 
the  Soldiers'  Home  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  assuring  him  of  their  support,  as 
the  vindicator  of  their  honor,  wringing 
his  hand  and  cheering  on  the  fight.  They 
retired  with  Cap  into  the  back  room  and 
emerged  shortly,  beaming  and  refreshed. 
They  had  no  votes  to  cast  in  the  city,  but 
what  matter? 

On  their  heels,  Mike  O'Rourke  rushed 
in  with  two  budgets  of  false  registrations 
which  he  had  been  able  to  ferret  out  by 
the  aid  of  the  drivers  of  his  grocery 
wagons.  He  embraced  David,  exchanged 
shots  with  the  major,  and  departed  in  high 
spirits.  Then  quiet  came  to  the  Gray 
Picket  for  a  time  and  Kildare  plunged 
into  his  papers  with  desperation. 


302    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"David,"  called  the  major  after  a  very 
few  minutes  of  peace,  "here's  a  call  for 
you  on  the  desk.  You'll  recognize  the 
number — remember,  a  firm  hand,  sir — a 
firm  hand!"  with  which  he  collected  his 
hat,  coat,  and  the  captain  and  took  his  de- 
parture, leaving  David  for  the  moment 
alone  in  the  editorial  rooms. 

He  sat  for  a  few  moments  before  the 
receiver  and  twisted  the  call  slip  around 
one  of  his  fingers.  In  a  moment  the  af- 
fairs of  state  and  the  destiny  of  the  city 
slipped  from  his  shoulders  and  his  mind 
took  up  the  details  of  another  problem. 

The  contest  for  the  judgeship  was  not 
the  only  one  David  Kildare  had  taken 
upon  himself — the  second  was  being 
waged  in  the  secret  chambers  of  two 
hearts,  one  proud,  exacting  and  uncon- 
vinced, the  other  determined  and  at  last 
thoroughly  aroused.  Phoebe  had  brought 
the  crisis  on  herself  and  she  was  beginning 


LOVE'S    HOME  303 

to  realize  that  the  duel  would  be  to  the 
death  or  complete  surrender. 

And  in  the  preliminaries,  which  had 
been  begun  on  the  Saturday  night  hunt 
and  carried  on  for  the  last  three  days, 
David  Kildare  had  failed  to  make  a  sin- 
gle false  move.  His  natural  and  inevitable 
absorption  in  his  race  for  the  judgeship 
had  served  to  keep  him  from  forcing  a 
single  issue;  and  Phoebe  had  had  time  to 
do  a  little  lonely,  unpursued  thinking. 

He  had  been  entirely  too  clever  to 
arouse  her  pride  against  him  by  a  suspi- 
cion of  neglect  in  his  attitude.  His  usual 
attentions  were  all  offered  and  a  new  one 
or  two  contrived.  He  sent  Eph  to  report 
to  her  with  his  electric  every  afternoon — 
she  understood  that  he  was  unable  by  the 
exigencies  of  the  case  to  come  himself  to 
take  her  to  keep  her  appointments  as  was 
his  custom.  Her  flowers  were  just  as 
thoughtfully  selected  and  sent  with  the 


304    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

gayest  little  notes,  as  like  as  possible  to 
the  ones  that  had  been  coming  to  her  for 
years.  He  ordered  in  an  unusually  large 
basket  of  eggs  from  the  farm  and  man- 
aged to  find  a  complicated  arrangement 
of  rope  and  pulleys,  the  manipulation  of 
which  for  an  hour  or  more  daily  was  war- 
ranted to  add  to  or  detract  from  the  stat- 
ure of  man  or  woman,  according  to  the 
desire  of  the  dissatisfied  individual.  His 
note  with  the  instrument  was  a  scintil- 
lating skit  and  was  answered  in  kind.  But 
through  it  all  Phoebe  was  undoubtedly 
lonely.  This  call,  the  second  since  Satur- 
day and  the  second  in  the  history  of  their 
joint  existences,  betrayed  her  to  the  now 
wily  David  more  than  she  realized — per- 
haps! 

He  took  down  the  receiver  and  got  the 
connection. 

"That  you — dear?"  David  managed  a 
casual  voice  with  difficulty. 


LOVE'S    HOME  305 

"Yes,  David,"  came  in  a  voice  that  fair- 
ly radiated  across  the  city.  "I  only  wanted 
to  ask  how  it  goes." 

"Fine — with  a  rip!  But  you  never  can 
tell — about  anything.  I'm  a  Presbyte- 
rian and  I'll  die  in  doubt  of  my  election. 
I'm  learning  not  to  count  on — things." 
His  voice  carried  a  mournful  note  that 
utterly  belied  his  radiant  face.  David 
was  enjoying  himself  to  almost  the  mortal 
limit! 

"David,"  there  was  a  perceptible  pause 
— "you — there  is  one  thing  you  can  al- 
ways count  on — isn't  there — me?"  The 
voice  was  very  gallant  but  also  slightly 
palpitating.  David  almost  lost  his  head 
but  hung  on  tight  and  came  up  right  side. 

"Some,"  he  answered,  which  reply,  in 
the  light  of  an  extremely  modern  use  of 
the  word  combined  with  the  legitimate, 
was  calculated  to  bring  conclusion.  Then 
he  hurried  another  offering  on  to  the  wire. 


306    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"How  long  are  you  going  to  be  at  home?" 
he  asked — another  dastardly  tantalization. 

"I — I  don't  know  exactly,"  she  parried 
quickly.  "Why?"  and  this  from  Phoebe 
who  had  always  granted  interviews  like 
a  queen  gives  jewels!  David  somewhere 
found  the  courage  to  lay  a  firm  hand  on 
himself.  With  just  a  few  more  blows  the 
citadel  was  his!  His  own  heart  writhed 
and  the  uncertainty  made  him  quake  in- 
ternally. 

"I  wish  I  could  come  over,  but  there 
are  two  committees  waiting  in  the  other 
room  for  me.  Do  you — "  a  clash  and 
buzz  hummed  over  the  wire  into  the  re- 
ceiver. There  was  a  jangle  and  tangle 
and  a  rough  man's  voice  cut  in  with, 
"Working  on  the  wires,  hang  up,  please," 
and  David  limply  hung  up  the  receiver 
and  collapsed  in  solitude,  for  his  commit- 
tees had  been  evoked  out  of  thin  air. 


LOVE'S    HOME  307 

His  state  of  mind  was  positively  ab- 
ject. His  years-old  tenderness  welled  up 
in  his  heart  and  flooded  to  his  eyes — the 
dash  and  the  pluck  of  her!  He  reached 
for  his  hat,  then  hesitated ;  it  was  election 
eve  and  in  two  hours  he  was  due  to  ad- 
dress the  congregation  of  griddle-cake 
discontents  on  how  to  make  men  vote  like 
ladies. 

A  call  boy  hurried  in  by  way  of  a  for- 
tunate distraction  and  handed  in  a  budget 
of  papers.  David  spread  them  out  be- 
fore him.  They  were  from  Susie  Carrie 
of  the  strong  brush  and  the  Civic  Im- 
provement League,  containing  sketches 
and  specifications  for  the  drinking  foun- 
tains already  pledged,  and  a  request  for 
an  early  institution  of  legislation  on  the 
play-ground  proposition.  Such  a  small 
thing  as  an  uncertain  election  failed  to 
daunt  the  artistic  fervor  of  Susie  Carrie's 


808    ANDREW   THE    GLAD 

fertile  brain  or  to  deter  her  from  making 
demands,  however  premature,  on  David 
the  sympathetic. 

And  David  Kildare  dropped  his  head 
on  the  papers  and  groaned.  The  vision 
of  a  life-work  rose  up  and  menaced  him 
and  the  words  "sweat  of  his  brow"  for  the 
first  time  took  on  a  concrete  meaning. 
Such  a  good,  old,  care-free  existence  he 
was  losing,  and — he  seized  his  hat  and  fled 
to  the  refreshment  of  bath,  food  and  fresh 
raiment. 

And  on  his  way  home  he  stopped  in  for 
a  word  with  the  major,  whom  he  found 
tired  and  on  his  way  to  take  as  much  as 
he  could  of  his  usual  nap.  He  was  seated 
in  his  chair  by  the  table  and  Caroline  Dar- 
rah  sat  near  him,  listening  eagerly  to  his 
story  of  some  of  the  events  in  the  day's 
campaign.  She  rose  as  David  entered  and 
held  out  her  hand  to  him  with  a  smile. 

Every  time  David  had  looked  at  Caro- 


LOVE'S    HOME  309 

line  Darrah  for  the  few  days  past  a  sharp 
pain  had  cut  into  his  heart  and  this  after- 
noon she  was  so  radiantly  lovely  with 
sympathy  and  interest  that  for  a  moment 
he  stood  looking  at  her  with  his  eyes  full 
of  tenderness.  Then  he  managed  a  ban- 
tering smile  and  backed  away  a  step  or 
two  from  her,  his  hands  behind  him. 

"No,  you  don't,  beautiful,"  David  some- 
times ventured  On  Phrebe's  name  for  the 
girl,  "you  are  so  sweet  in  that  frock  that 
I'm  afraid  if  I  touch  you  I'll  stick.  Some- 
body ought  to  label  such  a  lollypop  as 
you  dangerous.  Call  her  off,  Major!" 

The  major  laughed  at  Caroline's  blush 
and  laid  his  fingers  over  her  hand  that 
rested  on  the  corner  of  the  table  near 
him. 

"David,"  he  said,  "girls  are  confec- 
tions to  which  it  is  good  for  a  man  to  for- 
sake all  others  and  cling — but  not  to  gob- 
ble. Matilda,  recount  to  David  Kildare 


310    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

your  plans  for  the  night  of  the  election. 
I  wish  to  witness  his  joy." 

"Oh,  yes,  I've  been  wanting  to  tell  you 
about  it  for  two  days,  David,  dear,"  an- 
swered Mrs.  Buchanan  from  her  chair 
over  by  the  window  where  she  was  busily 
engaged  in  checking  names  off  a  long  list 
with  a  pencil.  "We  are  going  to  have  a 
reception  at  the  University  Club  so  every- 
body can  come  and  congratulate  you  the 
night  of  the  election.  Mrs.  Shelby  and  I 
thought  it  up  and  of  course  we  had  to 
speak  to  one  of  the  house  committee  about 
the  arrangements,  and  who  do  you  think 
the  member  was — Billy  Bob!  I  just 
talked  on  and  didn't  notice  Mrs.  Shelby 
and  finally  he  was  so  nice  and  deferential 
to  her  that  she  talked  some,  too.  She  al- 
most started  to  shake  hands  with  him  when 
we  left.  I  was  so  glad.  I  feel  that  it  is 
going  to  be  a  delightful  success  in  every 


LOVE'S    HOME  311 

way.    Please  be  thinking  up  a  nice  speech 
to  make." 

"Oh,  wait,"  groaned  David  Kildare,  "if 
I  begin  now  I  will  have  to  think  double, 
one  for  election  and  one  for  defeat.  Last 
night  I  dreamed  about  a  black  cat  that 
was  minus  a  left  eye  and  limped  in  the 
right  hind  leg.  Jeff  almost  cried  when 
I  told  him  about  it.  He  hasn't  smiled 


since." 


"I  told  Tempie  to  put  less  pepper  in 
those  chicken  croquettes  last  night — I 
saw  Phoebe's  light  burning  until  two 
o'clock  and  heard  her  and  Caroline  laugh- 
ing and  talking  even  after  that.  The 
major  was  so  nervous  that  he  was  up  and 
dressed  at  six  o'clock.  I  must  see  that  all 
of  you  get  simpler  food — your  nerves  will 
suffer.  Major,  suppose  you  don't  eat 
much  dinner — just  have  a  little  milk 
toast.  I'll  see  Tempie  about  it  now!"  and 


312    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

Mrs.  Buchanan  departed  after  bestowing 
a  glance,  in  which  was  a  conviction  of  dys- 
pepsia, upon  all  three  of  them. 

"Now,  David  Kildare,  see  what  you've 
done  with  your  black-cat  crawlings!  I'll 
have  to  eat  that  toast — see  if  I  don't!  I've 
consumed  it  with  a  smile  during  stated 
periods  for  thirty  years.  Yes,  girl-love 
is  a  kind  of  cup-custard,  but  wife-love  is 
bread  and  butter — milk  toast,  for  instance 
— bless  her!  But  I  am  hungry!"  The 
major's  expression  was  a  tragedy. 

"I'm  going  to  try  and  beg  you  off, 
Major,  dear,"  said  Caroline  Darrah,  and 
she  hurried  after  Mrs.  Matilda  into  Tern- 
pie's  domain. 

"Major,"  said  David  as  he  gazed  after 
the  girl,  "when  I  look  at  her  I  feel  cold  all 
over,  then  hot-mad!  He's  going  to-mor- 
row night  on  the  midnight  train — and  she 
doesn't  know!  I  can't  even  talk  to  him 
about  it — he  looks  like  a  dead  man  and 


LOVE'S   HOME  313 

works  like  a  demon.  I  don't  know  what 
to  do!" 

"David,"  said  the  major  slowly  as  he 
pressed  the  tips  of  his  long  lean  fingers 
together  and  regarded  them  intently, 
"how  love,  tender  wise  love,  love  that  is 
fed  on  heart's  blood  and  lives  by  soul- 
breath,  can  go  deaf,  blind,  dumb,  halt, 
broken-winged,  idiotic  and  mortally  cruel 
is  more  than  I  can  see.  God  Almighty 
comfort  him  when  he  finds  what  he  has 
done!" 

"And  if  she  does  find  it  out  she  won't 
understand,"  exclaimed  David. 

"No,"  answered  the  major,  "she  doesn't 
even  suspect  anything.  She  thinks  it  is  the 
press  of  his  work  that  keeps  him  away 
from  her.  The  child  carries  about  with  her 
that  aura  of  transport  that  only  an  ac- 
knowledgment from  a  lover  can  give  a 
woman.  I  had  hoped  that  he  had  seen 
some  way — I  couldn't  ask!  I  wonder — " 


314    ANDREW   THE   GLAD 

"Yes,  Major,"  interrupted  David 
quickly,  and  he  winced  as  he  spoke,  "it 
happened  on  the  hunt  Saturday  evening. 
They  climbed  the  bluff  and  watched  the 
hunt  from  a  distance  and  I  saw  how  it  was 
the  minute  they  came  back  to  the  camp- 
fire.  I  saw  it  and  I  was  just  jolly  happy 
over  it  even  to  the  tune  of  Phoebe's  sulks 
— I  thought  it  was  all  right,  and  I  wish 
you  could  have  seen  him.  His  head  was  up 
and  his  eyes  danced  and  he  gave  up  al- 
most the  first  real  laugh  I  ever  heard  from 
him,  when  I  teased  her  about  getting  lost. 
As  I  looked  at  him  I  thought  about  the 
other,  your  glad  Andrew,  Major,  and  I 
was  happy  all  in  a  shot  for  you,  because  I 
thought  you  were  going  to  get  back  some- 
thing of  what  you'd  lost.  It  all  seemed 
so  good!" 

"There's  been  joy  in  the  boy's  eyes,  joy 
and  sorrow  waging  a  war  for  weeks,  Da- 
vid, and  I've  had  to  sit  by  and  watch,  pow- 


LOVE'S   HOME  315 

erless  to  help  him.  Yes,  his  very  father 
himself  has  looked  out  of  his  eyes  at  me 
for  moments  and  I — well  I  had  hoped. 
Are  you  sure  he  is  going?"  As  the  major 
asked  the  question  his  brows  knotted  them- 
selves together  as  if  to  hide  the  pain  in  his 
eyes. 

"Yes,  he's  going  and  he  catches  the  next 
tramp  steamer  for  Panama  from  Savan- 
nah. I  wish  she  would  suspect  something 
and  force  it  from  him.  It's  strange  she 
doesn't,"  answered  David  despondently. 

"Caroline  Darrah  belongs  to  the  order 
of  humble  women  whose  love  feeds  on  a 
glance  and  can  be  sustained  on  a  crumb — 
another  class  demands  a  banquet  full 
spread  and  always  ready.  You'll  be  care- 
ful, boy,  don't — don't  diet  Phoebe  too 
longl"  The  major  eyed  David  anxiously 
across  the  light. 

"Heavens,  I'm  your  reconcentrado! 
Major,  I  feel  as  if  I'd  been  shut  up  down- 


cellar  in  the  cold  without  the  breath  of 
life  for  a  year.  It's  only  three  days  and 
thirteen  hours  and  a  half;  but  I'm  all  in. 
I  go  dead  without  her — believe  I'll  tele- 
phone her  now!"  And  David  reached  for 
the  receiver  that  stood  on  the  major's 
table. 

"Now,  David,"  said  the  major,  restrain- 
ing his  eager  hand  and  smiling  through 
his  sadness,  "don't  try  to  gather  your 
grapes  over  the  phone!  I  judge  they  are 
ripe,  but  they  still  hang  high — they  al- 
ways will!  Look  at  the  clock !" 

David  took  one  look  at  the  staid  old  ma- 
hogany timepiece,  which  the  major  had 
had  brought  in  from  Seven  Oaks  and 
placed  in  the  corner  opposite  his  table,  and 
took  his  departure. 

And  after  he  had  gone  the  major  re- 
tired to  his  room  to  lie  down  for  as  much 
of  his  allotted  rest  as  he  could  obtain.  See- 
ing him  safely  settled,  Mrs.  Buchanan 


LOVE'S    HOME  317 

went  over  for  a  short  visit  with  Mrs. 
Shelby  next  door.  Mrs.  Matilda  stuck  to 
the  irate  grandmother  through  thick  and 
thin  and  in  her  affectionate  heart  she  had 
hopes  of  bringing  about  the  much  to  be 
desired  reconciliation.  She  was  the  only 
person  in  the  city  who  dared  mention 
Milly  or  the  babies  to  the  old  lady  and 
even  in  her  unsophistication  she  suspected 
that  the  details  she  supplied  with  deter- 
mined intrepidity  fed  a  hunger  in  the 
lonely  old  heart.  Her  pilgrimage  next 
door  was  a  daily  one  and  never  neglected. 
Thus  left  alone  Caroline  Darrah  was 
partaking  of  a  solitary  cup  of  tea,  which 
was  being  served  her  by  Tempie  in  all  the 
gorgeousness  of  a  new  white  lace-trimmed 
and  beruffled  apron  which  Caroline  had 
made  for  her  as  near  as  possible  like  the 
dainty  garments  affected  by  the  French 
shop-clad  Annette,  who  was  Temple's  spe- 
cial ally  and  admirer,  when  Mrs.  Cherry 


318    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

Lawrence,  in  full  regalia,  descended  upon 
her.  Tempie  walled  her  black  eyes  and 
departed  with  dignity  for  an  extra  cup. 

The  major  was  fast  asleep,  David  Kil- 
dare  in  the  processes  of  bath  and  toilet, 
Phoebe  at  her  desk  down-town  and  Mrs. 
Matilda  away  on  her  mission,  and  thus  it 
happened  that  nobody  was  near  to  fend 
the  blight  from  the  flower  of  their  anxious 
cherishing. 

"Yes,  indeed,  it  is  a  time  of  anxiety," 
Mrs.  Cherry  agreed  with  Caroline  as  she 
crushed  the  lemon  in  her  tea.  "I  shall  be 
glad  when  it  is  over.  I  feel  that  we  all  are 
making  the  utmost  sacrifices  for  this  elec- 
tion of  David  Kildare's,  and  he's  such  a 
boy  that  he  probably  will  make  a  perfectly 
impossible  judge.  He  never  takes  any- 
thing seriously  enough  to  accomplish 
much.  It's  well  for  him  that  no  one  ex- 
pects anything  from  him." 

"Oh,  but  I'm  sure  he's  taking  this  seri- 


LOVE'S    HOME  319 

ously,"  exclaimed  Caroline  Darrah  with 
a  little  gleam  of  dismay  in  her  eyes.  "His 
race  has  been  an  exceptional  one  whether 
he  wins  or  not.  The  major  says  so  and  the 
other  day  Mr.  Sevier  told  me — "  At  the 
mention  of  Andrew  Sevier's  name  Mrs. 
Cherry  glanced  around  and  an  ugly  little 
gleam  came  into  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  of  course  Andrew  Sevier  is  too 
loyal  to  admit  any  criticism  of  David  to  a 
stranger"  she  said  with  a  slight  emphasis 
on  the  word  and  a  cold  glance  at  Caroline 
Darrah. 

"But  he  wasn't  talking  to  a  stranger,  he 
was  talking  just  to  me,"  said  Caroline 
quickly,  not  even  seeing  the  dart  aimed. 

"You  are  so  sweet,  dear!"  purred  Mrs. 
Cherry.  "Under  the  circumstances  it  is  so 
gracious  of  you  not  to  feel  yourself  a 
stranger  with  us  all  and  especially  with 
Andrew  Sevier.  Of  course  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  him  always  to  have 


320    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

avoided  you  and  it  was  just  like  his  gener- 
osity—" 

"Miss  Ca'line,  honey,"  came  in  a  de- 
cided voice  from  the  doorway,  "that  cus- 
tard you  is  a-making  for  the  major's  sup- 
per is  actin'  curisome  around  the  aiges. 
Please,  ma'am,  come  and  see  ter  it  a  min- 
ute!" 

"Oh,  excuse  me  just  a  second,"  ex- 
claimed Caroline  Darrah  to  Mrs.  Cherry 
as  she  rose  with  alarm  in  her  housewifely 
heart  and  hurried  past  Tempie  down  the 
hall. 

An  instinct  engendered  by  her  love  for 
Caroline  Darrah  had  led  Tempie  to  notice 
and  resent  something  in  Mrs.  Lawrence's 
manner  to  the  child  on  several  previous  oc- 
casions and  to-day  she  had  felt  no  scruples 
about  remaining  behind  the  curtains  well 
within  ear-shot  of  the  conversations.  Her 
knowledge  of,  and  participation  in,  the 
Buchanan  family  affairs,  past  and  present 


LOVE'S   HOME  321 

and  future,  was  an  inheritance  of  several 
generations  and  she  never  hesitated  to  as- 
sert her  privileges. 

"Lady,"  she  said  in  a  cool  soft  voice  as 
she  squared  herself  in  the  doorway  and 
looked  Mrs.  Lawrence  directly  in  the  face, 
"you  is  a  rich  white  woman  and  I's  a  poor 
nigger,  but  ef  you  had  er  secceeded  in  a- 
putting  that  thare  devil's  tale  into  my 
young  mistess's  head  they  would  er  been 
that  'twixt  you  and  me  that  we  never 
would  er  forgot;  and  there  wouldn't 
a-been  more'n  a  rag  left  of  that  dead-hus- 
band-bought frock  what  you've  got  on. 
Now  'fore  I  f ergits  myself  I  axes  you  out 
the  front  door — and  I'm  a-fergittin' 
fast." 

And  as  she  faced  the  domineering  wom- 
an in  her  trappings  of  fashion  all  the 
humble  blood  in  the  negro's  veins,  which 
had  come  down  to  her  from  the  forewom- 
en who  had  cradled  on  their  black  breasts 


322    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

the  mothers  of  such  as  Caroline  Darrah, 
was  turned  into  the  jungle  passion  for  de- 
fense of  this  slight  white  thing  that  was 
the  child  of  her  heart  if  not  of  her  body. 
The  danger  of  it  made  Mrs.  Lawrence 
fairly  quail,  and,  white  with  fright,  she 
gathered  her  rich  furs  about  her  and  fled 
just  as  Caroline  Darrah's  returning  foot- 
steps were  heard  in  the  hall. 

"Why,  where  did  Mrs.  Lawrence  go, 
Tempie?"  she  demanded  in  astonishment. 
Tempie  had  just  the  moment  in  which  to 
rally  herself  but  she  had  accomplished  the 
feat,  though  her  eyes  still  rolled  omi- 
nously. 

"She  'membered  something  what  she 
forgot  and  had  ter  hurry.  She  lef '  scuses 
fer  you,"  and  Tempie  busied  herself  with 
the  cups  and  tray. 

"She  was  beginning  to  say  something 
queer  to  me,  Tempie,  when  you  came  in. 
It  was  about  Mr.  Sevier  and  I  didn't  un- 


LOVE'S    HOME  323 

derstand.  I  almost  felt  that  she  was  being 
disagreeable  to  me  and  it  frightened  me 
— about  him.  I — " 

"Law,  I  spects  you  is  mistook,  chile,  an' 
if  it  war  anything  she  jest  wants  him  her- 
self and  was  a-laying  out  ter  tell  you  some 
enflirtment  she  had  been  a-trying  ter  have 
with  him.  Don't  pay  no  'tention  to  it," 
By  this  time  she  had  regained  her  com- 
posure and  was  able  to  reassure  Caroline 
with  her  usual  positiveness  to  which  she 
added  an  amount  of  worldly  tact  in  sub- 
stituting a  highly  disturbing  thought  in 
place  of  the  dangerous  one. 

"Do  you  really  think  she  can  be  in  love 
with — with  him,  Tempie?"  demanded 
Caroline  Darrah,  wide-eyed  with  astonish- 
ment. She  was  entirely  diverted  from  any 
desire  to  follow  out  or  weigh  Mrs.  Law- 
rence's remark  to  her  by  the  wiliness  of 
the  experienced  Tempie. 

"They   ain't   no   telling   what   widder 


324    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

women  out  fer  number  twos  will  do,"  an- 
swered Temple  sagely.  "Now,  you  run 
and  let  Miss  Annette  put  that  blue  frock 
on  you  'fore  dinner.  In  times  of  disturb- 
ance like  these  here  women  oughter  fix 
theyselves  up  so  as  ter  'tice  the  men  ter  eat 
a  little  at  meal  times.  Ain't  I  done  put  on 
this  white  apron  ter  try  and  git  that  no 
'count  Jefferson  jest  ter  take  notice  a  lit- 
tle uv  his  vittals.  Now  go  on,  honey — it's 
late." 

And  thus  the  love  of  the  old  negro  had 
taken  away  the  only  chance  given  Caroline 
Darrah  to  learn  the  facts  of  the  grim 
story,  from  the  knowledge  of  which  she 
might  have  worked  out  salvation  for  her 
lover  and  herself. 

An  hour  later  as  they  were  being  served 
the  soup  by  the  absorbed  and  inattentive 
Jeff,  Mrs.  Matilda  laid  down  her  spoon 
and  said  to  Caroline  anxiously : 

"I  wish  Phoabe  had  come  out  to-night. 


LOVE'S    HOME  325 

I  asked  her  but  she  said  she  was  too  busy. 
She  looked  tired.  Do  you  suppose  she 
could  be  ill?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  major  dryly,  "I 
feel  sure  that  Phoebe  is  ill.  She  is  at  pres- 
ent, I  should  judge,  suffering  with  a  mal- 
ady which  she  has  had  for  some  time  but 
which  is  about  to  reach  the  acute  stage. 
It  needs  judicious  ignoring  so  let's  not 
mention  it  to  her  for  the  present." 

"I  understand  what  you  mean,  Major," 
answered  his  wife  with  delighted  eyes, 
"and  I  won't  say  a  word  about  it.  It  will 
be  such  a  help  to  David  to  have  a  wife 
when  he  is  the  judge.  How  long  will  it 
be  before  he  can  be  the  governor,  dear?" 

"That  depends  on  the  wife,  Mrs.  Bu- 
chanan, to  a  large  extent,"  answered  the 
major  with  a  delighted  smile. 

"Oh,  Phoebe  will  want  him  to  do 
things,"  said  Mrs.  Matilda  positively. 

"No  doubt  of  that,"  the  major  replied. 


326    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"I  see  David  Kildare  slated  for  the  full 
life  from  now  on — eh,  Caroline?" 

And  the  major  had  judged  Phoebe's 
situation  perhaps  more  rightly  than  he  re- 
alized, for  while  David  led  the  vote-direct- 
ors' rally  at  the  theater  and  later  was  clos- 
eted with  Andrew  for  hours  over  the  last 
editorial  appeal  in  the  morning  Journal, 
Phoebe  sat  before  her  desk  in  her  own  little 
down-town  home.  Mammy  Kitty  was 
snoring  away  like  a  peaceful  watch-dog 
on  her  cot  in  the  dressing-room  and  the 
whole  apartment  was  dark  save  for  the 
shaded  desk-light. 

The  time  and  place  were  fitting  and 
Phoebe  was  summoning  her  visions — and 
facing  her  realities.  Down  the  years  came 
sauntering  the  nonchalant  figure  of  Da- 
vid Kildare.  He  had  asked  her  to  marry 
him  that  awful,  lonely,  sixteenth  birthday 
and  he  had  asked  her  the  same  thing  every 


LOVE'S   HOME  327 

year  of  all  the  succeeding  ten — and  a 
number  of  times  in  between.  Phoebe 
squared  herself  to  her  reviewing  self  and 
admitted  that  she  had  cared  for  him  then 
and  ever  since — cared  for  him,  but  had 
starved  his  tenderness  and  in  the  lover  had 
left  unsought  the  man.  But  she  was  clear- 
sighted enough  to  know  that  the  hand- 
some easy-going  boy,  who  had  wooed 
with  a  smile  and  taken  rebuff  with  a  laugh, 
was  not  the  steady-eyed  forceful  man  who 
now  faced  her.  He  stood  at  the  door  of  a 
life  that  stretched  away  into  long  vistas, 
and  now  he  would  demand.  Phoebe  bowed 
her  head  on  her  hands — suppose  he  should 
not  demand! 

And  so  in  the  watches  of  the  night  the 
siege  was  raised  and  Phoebe,  the  dauntless, 
brilliant,  arrogant  Phoebe  had  capitulated. 
No  love-lorn  woman  of  the  ages  ever 
palpitated  more  thoroughly  at  the  thought 


328    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

of  her  lover  than  did  she  as  she  kept  vigil 
with  David  across  the  city. 

But  there  were  articles  of  capitulation 
yet  to  be  signed  and  the  ceremony  of  sur- 
render to  come. 


CHAPTER  XI 


AND  the  day  of  the  election  arrived  next 
morning  and  brought  cold  clouds  shot 
through  with  occasional  gleams  of  pale 
sunshine,  only  to  be  followed  by  light  but 
threatening  flurries  of  snow. 

All  through  the  Sunday  night  David 
had  sat  over  in  the  editorial  rooms  of  the 
Journal  beside  Andrew  Sevier,  talking, 
writing  and  sometimes  silent  with  unex- 
pressed sympathy,  for  as  the  last  sheets  of 
his  editorial  work  slipped  through  his  fin- 
gers Andrew  grew  white  and  austere.  Once 
for  a  half-hour  they  talked  about  his  busi- 
ness affairs  and  he  turned  over  a  bundle 
of  papers  to  David  and  discussed  the  in- 
329 


vestment  of  the  money  that  had  come  from 
his  heavy  royalties  for  the  play  now  run- 
ning, and  the  thousands  paid  in  advance 
for  the  new  drama. 

As  David  ran  carefully  through  them 
to  see  that  they  were  in  order  for  him  to 
handle,  Andrew  turned  to  his  desk  and 
wrote  rapidly  for  some  minutes*  then 
sealed  a  letter  and  laid  it  aside.  After  he 
had  read  the  last  batch  of  proof  from  the 
composing-room  he  turned  to  David  and 
with  a  quiet  look  handed  him  the  letter 
which  was  directed  to  Caroline  Darrah. 

"If  she  ever  finds  out  give  her  this 
letter,  please.  It  will  make  her  under- 
stand why  I  go,  I  hope.  I  can't  talk  to 
you  about  it  but  I  want  to  ask  you,  man  to 
man,  to  look  after  her.  Dave,  I  leave  her 
to  your  care — and  Phoebe's."  And  his 
rich  voice  was  composed  into  an  utter  sad- 
ness. 

"The  work  here  and  the  night  are  both 


THE  MANY  WATERS      331 

over,  let's  go  down  to  headquarters,"  he 
added,  and  like  two  boys,  with  hands  tight 
gripped,  they  passed  out  into  the  winter 
street. 

Down  at  the  Gray  Picket  they  found 
some  of  David's  ardent  supporters  still 
fresh  and  enthusiastic  though  they  had 
been  making  a  night  of  it.  Soon  waves 
of  excitement  were  rising  and  falling  all 
over  the  city  and  the  streets  were  thronged 
with  men  from  out  through  the  county. 

At  an  early  hour  heavy  wagons  moved 
with  the  measured  tread  of  blind  tigers 
and  deposited  blind  tiger  kittens,  done  up 
in  innocent  and  deceptive  looking  crates, 
at  numbers  of  discreet  alley  covers  near 
the  polls.  At  the  machine  headquarters 
rotund  and  blooming  gentlemen  grouped 
and  dissolved  and  grouped  again,  during 
which  process  wads  of  greenbacks  unrolled 
and  flashed  with  insolent  carelessness.  The 
situation  was  and  had  been  desperate  and 


332    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

this  last  stand  must  be  brought  through 
for  the  whisky  interest,  come  high  as  it 
would. 

And  so  through  the  morning,  delega- 
tions kept  dropping  in  to  David's  head- 
quarters to  keep  up  the  spirits  of  the  can- 
didate and  incidentally  to  have  their  own 
raised.  There  were  ugly  rumors  coming 
from  the  polls.  The  police  were  machine 
instruments  and  the  back  door  of  every 
saloon  in  the  city  was  wide  open,  while  a 
repeating  vote  was  plainly  indicated  by 
crowds  of  floaters  who  drifted  from  ward 
to  ward.  The  faces  of  the  bosses  were 
discreetly  radiant. 

"Lord,  David,"  groaned  Cap  Cantrell, 
"they're  turning  loose  kegs  of  boodle  and 
barrels  of  booze — we'll  never  beat  'em  in 
the  world!  They've  got  this  city  tied  up 
and  thrown  to  the  dogs!  What's  the  use 
of—" 


THE  MANY  WATERS      333 

"David,"  exclaimed  the  major  excited- 
ly, "we're  in  for  a  rally,  and  look  at  them!" 

Down  the  street  they  came,  the  news 
kiddies,  a  hundred  strong,  led  by  Phoebe's 
freckle-faced  red-headed  devil  whose 
mouth  stretched  from  ear  to  ear  with  a 
grin.  They  carried  huge  poster  banners 
and  their  inscriptions  were  in  a  language 
of  their  own,  emblazoned  in  ink-pot  script. 

"I  LOVE  MY  DAVE— BUT 
JUMP !"  meant  much  to  them  but  failed 
to  elucidate  the  fact  that  they  were  refer- 
ring to  the  gift  of  a  flatboat,  canvased  for 
a  swimming  booth  which  David  had  had 
moored  at  the  foot  of  the  bridge  during 
the  dog  days  of  the  previous  summer  so 
that  they  might  have  a  joyous  dip  in  the 
river  between  editions.  He  had  gone 
down  himself  occasionally  for  a  frolic 
with  them  and  "Jump!"  had  been  the  sig- 
nal for  the  push-off  of  any  timid  diver. 


334    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

He  shouted  with  glee  when  he  read  the 
skit — he  was  taking  his  high  dive  in  life. 

"RUN,  DAVE,  RUN  — TIGER'S 
LOOSE— NIT!"  was  another  witticism 
and  a  crooked  pole  bore  aloft  these  words, 
"JUDGE  DAVID  KILDARE 
SOAKS  OLD  BOOZE  THE  FIRST 
ROUND!" 

They  lined  up  in  front  of  the  head- 
quarters and  gave  a  shrill  cheer  that  made 
up  in  enthusiasm  for  what  it  lacked  in 
volume.  They  took  a  few  words  of  banter 
from  the  candidate  in  lieu  of  a  speech  and 
paraded  off  around  the  city,  spending 
much  time  in  front  of  the  camp  of  the  op- 
position and  indulging  in  as  much  of  de- 
risive vituperation  as  they  dared. 

They  were  followed  by  another  pic- 
turesque visitation.  A  dignified  old  col- 
ored man  brought  twenty  pathetic  little 
pickaninnies  from  the  orphans'  home,  to 
which,  the  men  at  headquarters  learned 


THE  MANY  WATERS      335 

for  the  first  time,  David  Kildare  had  given 
the  modest  building  that  sheltered  the 
waifs.  Decidedly,  murder  will  out,  and 
there  come  times  when  the  left  and  right 
hands  of  a  man  are  forced  into  confession 
to  each  other  about  their  most  secret  ac- 
tions. A  political  campaign  is  apt  to 
bring  such  a  situation  into  the  lives  of 
the  aspiring  candidates.  The  little  coons 
set  up  a  musical  wail  that  passed  for  a 
cheer  and  marched  away  munching  the 
contents  of  a  huge  box  of  candy  that  Polly 
had  sent  down  to  headquarters  the  night 
before,  such  being  her  idea  of  a  flagon 
with  which  to  stay  the  courage  of  the  con- 
testants. 

And  through  it  all,  the  consultation  of 
the  leaders,  the  falling  hopes  of  the  poll 
scouts,  the  gradual  depression  that  crept 
over  the  spirits  of  the  major  and  Cap 
and  the  rest  of  his  near  supports,  David 
was  a  solid  tower  of  strength. 


386    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

Then  during  the  day  the  tension  became 
tight  and  tighter,  for  how  the  fight  was 
going  exactly  no  one  could  tell  and  it 
seemed  well-nigh  impossible  to  stop  the 
vote  steal  that  was  going  on  all  over  the 
city,  protected  by  the  organized  govern- 
ment. Defeat  seemed  inevitable. 

So  at  six  o'clock  the  disgusted  Cap 
picked  up  his  hat  and  started  home  and 
to  the  astonishment  of  the  whole  head- 
quarters David  Kildare  calmly  rose  and 
followed  him  without  a  word  to  the  others, 
who  failed  to  realize  that  he  had  deserted 
until  he  was  entirely  gone.  Billy  Bob 
looked  dashed  with  amazement,  Hobson 
sat  down  limply  in  the  deserted  chair,  Tom 
whistled — but  the  major  looked  at  them 
with  a  quizzical  smile  which  was  for  a  sec- 
ond reflected  in  Andrew  Sevier's  face. 

Phoebe  sat  in  Milly's  little  nursery  in 
the  failing  winter  light  which  was  aug- 
mented by  the  glow  from  the  fire  of  coals. 


THE  MANY  WATERS      337 

Little  Billy  Bob  stood  at  her  side  within 
the  circle  of  her  arm,  his  head  against  her 
shoulder  and  his  eyes  wide  with  a  delicious 
horror  as  he  gazed  upon  a  calico  book 
whose  pages  were  brilliant  with  the  trag- 
edy of  the  three  bears,  which  she  was 
reading  very  slowly  and  with  many  ex- 
planatory annotations.  Crimie  balanced 
himself  against  her  knee  and  beat  with  a 
spoon  against  the  back  of  the  book  and 
whooped  up  the  situation  in  every  bubbly 
way  possible  to  his  lack  of  classified  vo- 
cabulary. Milly  and  Mammy  Betty  were 
absorbed  in  the  domestic  regions  so  Phoebe 
had  them  all  to  herself — all  four,  for  the 
twins  lay  cuddled  asleep  in  their  crib 
near  by. 

And  though  Phoebe  had  herself  well  in 
hand,  her  mind  would  wander  occasionally 
from  the  history  of  the  bruins  to  which 
Mistake  patiently  recalled  her  by  a  clamor 
for,  "More,  Phoebe,  more." 


338    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

.*., 

>  ' 

In  a  hurried  response  to  one  of  his 
goads  she  failed  to  hear  a  step  in  the  hall 
for  which  she  had  been  telling  herself 
that  she  had  not  been  listening  for  two 
hours  or  more,  and  David  Kildare  stood 
in  the  doorway,  the  firelight  full  on  his 
face. 

It  was  not  a  triumphant  David  with  his 
judiciary  honors  full  upon  him  and  gu- 
bernational,  senatorial,  ambassadorial  and 
presidential  astral  shapes  manifesting 
themselves  in  dim  perspective;  it  was  just 
old  whimsical  David,  tender  of  smile  and 
loving  though  bantering  of  eye,  albeit  a 
somewhat  pale  and  exhausted  edition. 

"Phoebe,"  he  said  with  a  low  laugh,  "no- 
body wants  Dave — for  anything!" 

And  it  was  then  that  the  fire  that  had 
been  lighted  in  the  heart  of  Phoebe  in  her 
night  watch  blazed  up  into  her  face  as 
she  held  out  her  arms  to  him !  And  in  the 
twinkle  of  a  fire-spark  David  found  him- 


THE  MANY  WATERS      339 

self  on  his  knees,  with  Phoebe,  the  low 
chintz -covered  chair  and  the  two  kiddies 
clasped  to  his  heart. 

For  a  glorious  moment  he  held  them 
all  close  and  his  head  rested  on  Phoebe's 
shoulder  just  opposite  that  of  Mistake, 
while  Crimie  squirmed  between  them. 
Then  he  discovered  that  he  was  gazing 
under  her  chin  into  the  wide-open, 
slightly  resentful  orbs  of  Big  Brother, 
who  eyed  him  a  moment  askance,  then, 
feeling  it  time  to  assert  himself,  reached 
up  and  landed  a  plainly  proprietary  and 
challenging  kiss  against  the  corner  of  his 
lady's  mouth. 

David  laughed  delightedly  and  em- 
braced the  trio  with  greater  force  as  he 
said  propitiatingly,  "Good  snugglings, 
isn't  it,  old  man?" 

But  at  this  exact  moment  Crimie  took 
the  situation  into  his  own  hands,  slipped 
his  cable,  grabbed  the  book  as  he  went  and 


340    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

rolled  over  a  couple  of  yards  with  a  de- 
lighted giggle.  Billy  Bob,  seeing  his 
treasure  captured,  instantly  followed  and 
there  forthwith  ensued  a  tussle  that  was 
the  height  of  delight  to  the  two  good- 
natured  youngsters. 

And  Phoebe's  arms  closed  around  David 
more  closely  as  she  held  him  embraced 
against  her  shoulder,  her  soft  cheek  on  his. 

"Dave,"  she  whispered,  "you  know  I 
really  don't  care  at  all,  don't  you?" 

"What?"  demanded  David  with  alarm 
in  his  voice  as  he  raised  his  head  and 
looked  at  her  in  consternation. 

"The  election  makes  no — " 

"Oh,  that — I'd  forgotten  all  about  it! 
Don't  scare  me  like  that  any  more,  peach- 
bud,  please,"  he  besought  and  he  took  her 
chin  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  as  she  leant 
to  him,  her  eyes  looking  into  his,  level  and 
confident  but  glorious  with  bestowal.  For 
a  long  minute  he  gazed  straight  into  their 


THE  MANY  WATERS      341 

dawn-gray  depths  then  he  said  gently,  the 
caress  suspended: 

"Woman,  if  you  are  ever  going  to  take 
any  of  this  back,  do  it  now!" 

"Never,"  she  answered  and  clasped  her 
hands  against  his  breast. 

"It's  still  the  loafer  out  of  a  job — just 
Dave-do-nothing,"  he  insisted,  a  new  dig- 
nity in  his  voice  that  stirred  her  pride. 

"Please !"  she  closed  her  eyes  as  she  en- 
treated. 

"It's  for  a  long  time — always"  His 
voice  was  heaven-sweet  with  its  note  of 
warning  and  he  laid  his  other  strong 
warm  hand  on  her  throat  where  a  con- 
trolled sob  made  it  pulse. 

"I'm  being  very  patient,"  she  whispered 
and  her  lips  quivered  with  a  smile  as  two 
tears  jeweled  her  black  lashes. 

But  David  had  made  his  last  stand — he 
folded  her  in,  locked  his  heart  and  threw 
away  the  key. 


342    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"Love,"  he  whispered  after  a  long 
time,  "I  know  this  is  just  a  dream — I've 
had  'em  for  ten  years — but  don't  let  any- 
body wake  me !" 

To  which  plea  Phoebe  was  making  the 
tenderest  of  responses,  when  the  door 
burst  open  and  Billy  Bob  shot  into  the 
room. 

"Hip!  hip!"  he  yelled  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  "six  hundred  and  ten  plurality  and 
all  from  the  two  coon  wards — count  all 
in  and  verified — no  difference  now  how 
the  others  go  and — "  He  paused  and  the 
situation  dawned  upon  him  all  in  a  heap 
as  Phoebe  hid  her  head  against  David's 
collar.  "Davie,"  he  remarked  in  subdued 
tones,  "you're  'lected,  but  I  don't  s'pose 
you  care!" 

"Go  away,  Billy  Bob,  don't  you  see  I'm 
busy?"  answered  David  as  he  rose  to  his 
feet,  keeping  Phoebe  still  embraced  as  she 
stood  beside  him. 


THE  MANY  WATERS      343 

"Jerusalem  the  Golden !  Have  you  cor- 
nered heaven,  David?"  gasped  Billy  Bob 
again  rising  to  the  surface.  "Help,  some- 
body, help!"  At  which  exact  minute  Mis- 
take succeeded  in  dispossessing  Crimie  of 
the  last  tatters  of  the  adventures  of  the 
bears  and  thus  bringing  down  upon  them 
all  a  tumult  of  distraction. 

Billy  Bob  caught  up  the  roarer  and 
threw  him  almost  up  to  the  ceiling.  "Hur- 
rah for  Dave !"  he  said,  and  to  the  best  of 
his  ability  Crimie  "hurrahed"  while  Mis- 
take joined  in  enthusiastically.  The  hub- 
bub at  last  penetrated  the  slumbers  of  the 
twins,  who  added  to  the  uproar  to  such  an 
extent  that  Mammy  Betty  hurried  to  the 
scene  of  action  and  cleared  the  deck  with- 
out further  delay. 

"And,"  continued  Billy  Bob  to  Milly 
and  the  pair  of  serene  and  only  slightly 
attentive  young  people,  "you  should  have 
seen  Jeff,  dressed  in  Dave's  last  year  frock 


344    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

coat  and  high  hat,  whizzing  around  the 
coon  haunts  in  Caroline's  gray  car  hand- 
ing out  invitations  to  the  Chocolate  Coun- 
try Club  jamboree!  They  put  the  bottle 
and  the  dimes  completely  out  of  business 
and  he  voted  the  whole  gang  straight. 
They  tried  hard  to  fix  up  the  returns  but 
Hob  and  I  were  at  the  count  and  we  saw 
it  clean.  Holy  smoke,  what  a  sell  for  the 
machine!  Slipped  a  cog  on  the  nigger 
vote  that  they  have  handled  for  years!" 

"And  not  a  dollar  spent!"  said  David 
with  pride.  Which  goes  to  show  that  at 
times  women  keep  their  own  counsels,  for 
Phrebe  ducked  her  head  to  hide  a  smile. 

"And  now  it's  up  to  you  to  hurry  and 

get  to  the  University  Club  by  eight-thirty. 
You  are  to  address  the  populace  and  two 
brass  bands  from  the  northeast  window  at 
nine  sharp — two  extras  out  announcing  it. 
Everybody  has  been  looking  for  you  an 


THE  MANY  WATERS      345 

hour,  you  old  moon-spooner,  you!"  urged 
Billy  Bob. 

"They  can  keep  up  the  hunt — Phoebe 
and  I  are  going — well,  we  are  going  where 
nobody  can  find  us  for  this  evening  any- 
way," answered  David  with  danger  in  his 
eyes. 

"No!"  said  Phoebe  as  she  slipped  her 
hand  into  his,  "I've  had  you  as  long  as 
is  fair  as  it  is.  Won't  you  go  and  see  them 
all?  If  you  will  I  will  dress  in  a  hurry  and 
you  can  come  by  for  me.  Please!" 

"Don't  pull  back  on  the  leash,  David," 
remarked  Billy  Bob.  "It's  just  beginning. 
Trot  to  heel  and  be  happy."  He  laid 
his  arm  round  Milly's  waist  as  he  spoke 
and  gave  her  a  little  squeeze. 

And  it  was  into  the  midst  of  a  glorious 
round-up  of  a  whole  joyous  convention  of 
friends  that  David  Kildare  stepped  sev- 
eral hours  later,  a  resplendent  and  mag- 


346    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

nificent  David  with  Phoebe  glowing  be- 
side him.  And,  too,  it  was  not  only  his  own 
high  particulars  that  surged  around  him, 
for  Phoebe  had  fixed  it  with  the  board  of 
governors  and  made  out  a  very  careful 
list  of  every  campaign  friend  he  had  made 
and  had  all  the  girls  at  the  phones  for 
hours  inviting  each  and  every  one.  If  at 
any  time  in  his  political  career  David  Kil- 
dare  should  lack  the  far  vision  Phoebe  was 
fully  capable  of  taking  a  long  sight  for 
him. 

So  Mike  O'Rourke  was  there,  stuffed 
carefully  into  a  rented  dress  suit  and  was 
being  attentioned  to  the  point  of  com- 
bustion by  Polly,  who  was  thus  putting 
off  a  reckoning  with  young  New  Eng- 
land, promised  for  "after  the  election." 
Freckles,  the  devil,  was  having  the  lark  of 
his  life  in  removing  hats  and  coats  under 
the  direction  of  an  extremely  dignified 
club  official. 

There  were  men  from  the  down-town 


THE  MANY  WATERS      347 

district  in  plain  business  clothes  who  stood 
in  excited  groups  discussing  the  issues  of 
the  day.  The  head  of  the  cotton  mills, 
who  had  voted  every  employee  perfectly 
in  line  without  coercion,  was  expatiating 
largely  to  four  old  fellows  in  gray,  for 
whom  Cap  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  fur- 
loughs from  the  commandant  out  at  the 
Home  and  was  keeping  over  night  as  his 
guests.  They  also  were  having  the  lark 
of  their  young  lives  and  were  being  over- 
whelmed by  attentions  from  all  the  Con- 
federate Dames  present. 

Susie  Carrie  was  wonderful  in  some 
dangerously  contrived  Greek  draperies, 
and  over  by  the  window  held  court  on  the 
subject  of  a  city  beautiful  under  a  coun- 
cil of  artistic  city  fathers.  She  announced 
the  beginning  of  sittings  for  a  full  life- 
sized  portrait  of  Judge  Kildare  for  the 
city  hall,  at  which  Billy  Bob  raised  such 
a  cheer  as  almost  to  drown  out  the  or- 
chestra. 


348    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

Mrs.  Buchanan  received  everybody  with 
the  most  beaming  delight  and  Mrs.  Shelby 
was  so  excited  that  she  asked  Billy  Bob 
about  the  children,  which  concession 
brought  the  stars  to  Milly's  gentle  eyes. 

Mrs.  Cherry,  as  usual,  was  in  full  and  re- 
splendent regalia  with  Tom  in  attendance, 
displaying  a  satisfied  and  masterful  man- 
ner that  told  its  own  tale.  Her  amazing 
encounter  with  Tempie  had  remained  a 
secret  between  her  and  the  discreet  old 
negro  and  her  manner  to  Caroline  Darrah 
was  so  impressively  cordial  that  Phoebe 
actually  unbent  to  the  extent  of  an  ex- 
change of  congratulations  that  had  a  sem- 
blance of  friendliness.  The  widow's  net 
having  hauled  up  Tom,  hopes  for  un- 
troubled waters  again  could  be  indulged. 

In  the  midst  of  all  the  hilarity  the  dele- 
gations and  the  bands  began  to  arrive  out- 
side. The  cheering  rose  to  a  roar  and 
from  the  brilliantly  lighted  ballroom  Da- 


THE  MANY  WATERS      349 

vid  Kildare  stepped  out  on  the  balcony 
and  stood  forty-five  minutes  laughing  and 
bowing,  not  managing  to  get  in  more  than 
a  few  words  of  what  might  have  been  a 
great  speech  if  his  constituency  had  not 
been  entirely  too  excited  to  listen  to  it. 

It  was  almost  midnight  when  they  all 
marched  away  to  Dixie  played  to  rag-time 
measure  and  sung  by  five  hundred  strong. 
With  a  sigh  of  relief  David  held  out  his 
arms  to  Phoebe  and  started  to  swing  her 
into  the  whirl  of  the  dancers.  As  his  arms 
fell  about  her  Phoebe  pressed  close  to  him 
with  a  quick  breath  and  his  eyes  followed 
hers  across  the  room. 

Under  the  lights  that  hung  above  the 
entrance  to  the  fern  room  stood  Caroline 
Darrah  like  a  flower  blown  against  the 
deep  green  of  the  tall  palms  behind  her, 
and  her  eyes  were  lifted  to  Andrew's  face 
which  smiled  down  at  her  with  suppressed 
tragedy.  For  an  instant  she  laid  her  hand 


350    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

on  his  arm  and  they  were  about  to  catch 
step  with  the  music  when  suddenly  she 
swung  around  into  the  green  tangle  be- 
yond her  and  reached  out  her  hand  to  draw 
him  after  her. 

"Pray,  David,  pray,"  said  Phoebe  as 
they  glided  over  the  polished  floor. 

"I  am,"  David  whispered  back  as  his 
arms  tightened.  "I  can't  think  of  any- 
thing but  'Now  I  lay  me' — but  won't  it 
help?" 

In  the  wide  window  at  the  end  of  the 
long  room  Caroline  turned  and  waited 
for  Andrew.  The  lights  from  the  city 
beat  up  into  her  face  and  she  was  pale, 
while  her  jewel  eyes  shone  black  under 
their  long  lashes.  Her  white  gloved 
hands  wrung  themselves  against  his  breast 
as  she  held  him  from  her. 

"Out  there  while  we  danced,"  she  whis- 
pered, "I  don't  know  what,  but  something 
told  me  that  you  are  going  to  leave  me 


THE  MANY  WATERS      351 

and  not  tell  me  why.  You  were  saying 
good-by  to  my  heart — with  yours.  Tell 
me,  what  is  it?" 

And  with  full  knowledge  of  the 
strange,  subtle,  superconscious  thing  that 
had  been  between  them  from  the  first  and 
which  had  manifested  itself  in  devious 
mystic  ways,  Andrew  Sevier  had  dared  to 
think  he  could  hold  her  in  his  arms  in  an 
atmosphere  charged  with  the  call  of  a 
half -barbarous  music  and  take  farewell  of 
her — she  all  unknowing  of  what  threat- 
ened! 

"What  is  it?"  she  demanded  again  and 
her  hands  separated  to  clasp  his  shoulder 
convulsively.  Her  words  were  a  flutter 
between  her  teeth. 

.Then  the  God  of  Women  struck  light 
across  his  blindness,  and  taking  her  in  his 
arms,  he  looked  her  straight  in  the  eyes 
and  told  her  the  whole  gruesome  bitter 
tale.  Before  he  had  finished  she  closed 


her  eyes  against  his  and  swayed  away  from 
him  to  the  cold  window-pane. 

"I  see,"  she  whispered,  "you  don't  want 
me — you  couldn't — you — never — did!" 

And  at  that  instant  the  blood  bond  in 
Andrew  Sevier's  breast  snapped  and  with 
an  awed  comprehension  of  the  vast  and 
everlasting  Source  from  which  flows  the 
love  that  constrains  and  the  love  that  heals, 
the  love  that  only  comes  to  bind  in  honor, 
he  reached  out  and  took  his  own.  In  the 
seventh  heaven  which  is  the  soul  haunt  of 
all  in  like  case,  there  was  no  need  of  word 
mating. 

Hours  later,  one  by  one  the  lights  in  the 
houses  along  the  avenue  twinkled  out  and 
the  street  lay  in  the  grasp  of  the  after 
midnight  silence.  Only  a  bright  light  still 
burned  at  the  major's  table,  which  was 
piled  high  with  books  into  which  he  was 
delving  with  the  hunger  of  many  long 


THE  MANY  WATERS      353 

hours  of  deprivation  strong  upon  him. 
He  had  scouted  the  idea  of  the  ball,  had 
donned  dressing-gown  and  slippers  and 
gone  back  to  the  company  of  his  Immor- 
tals with  alacrity.  On  their  return  Mrs. 
Buchanan  and  the  girls  had  found  him 
buried  in  his  tomes  ten  deep  and  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  Phoebe,  kneeling  beside 
him  on  one  side,  and  Caroline  on  the  other, 
made  him  listen  to  their  joint  tale  of  mod- 
ern romance,  to  which  Mrs.  Matilda 
played  the  part  of  a  joyous  commentator. 

To  Phoebe  he  was  merciless  and  a  war 
of  wits  made  the  library  echo  with  its  give 
and  take. 

"Of  course,  my  dear  Phoebe,"  he  said, 
"it  is  an  established  fact  that  a  man  and 
his  wife  are  one,  and  if  you  will  just  let 
that  one  be  Judge  Kildare  semi-occasion- 
ally  it  will  more  than  content  him,  I'm 
sure." 


354    ANDREW    THE    GLAD 

"Why,  Major,  can't  you  trust  me  to 
be  a  good — wife  to  David?  Don't  be  un- 
kind to  me!  I'll  promise  to — to — " 

"Don't,  Phoebe,  don't!  That  'love,  honor 
and  obey'  clause  is  the  direct  cause  of  all 
the  woman  legislation  ever  undertaken — 
and  it  holds  a  remarkably  short  time  after 
marriage  as  a  general  thing.  Now  there's 
Matilda  —  for  over  thirty-five  years 
I've —  But  where  is  Andrew?"  he  de- 
manded anxiously. 

"Andy,"  answered  David  with  the 
greatest  delight  in  his  happy  eyes  and 
the  red  lock  rampant  over  his  brow,  "is  sit- 
ting on  the  end  of  a  hard  bench  down  at 
the  telegraph  office  trying  to  get  a  cable 
through  to  his  chief  for  permission  to  wait 
over  for  a  steamer  that  sails  for  Panama 
two  weeks  from  to-day." 

"What?"  demanded  the  major  in  sur- 
prise, looking  at  Caroline. 

"Oh,  she's  going  with  him — there  are  no 


The  girls  found  him  buried  in  his  tomes. 


\ 


THE  MANY  WATERS      855 

frills  to  the  affection  of  Caroline  Darrah  I 
She'll  be  bending  over  his  camp-fire  yank- 
ing out  his  hot  tamales  in  less  than  a  month 
—glad  to  do  it.  Won't  you,  beautiful?" 
answered  David  gleefully  to  Caroline's 
beautiful  confusion. 

"David  Kildare,"  observed  the  major 
with  the  utmost  solemnity,  "when  a  man 
and  woman  embark  with  love  at  the  rud- 
der it  is  well  the  Almighty  controls  the 
wind  and  the  tides." 

"I  know,  Major,  I  know  and  I'm  scared 
some,  only  I'm  counting  on  Phoebe's  chart 
and  the  stars.  I'm  just  the  jolly  paddler," 
answered  David  with  a  laugh  across  at 
Phoebe. 

"Well,"  remarked  the  major  judicially, 
"I  think  she  will  be  able  to  accomplish  the 
course  if  undisturbed.  It  will  behoove 
you,  however,  to  remember  that  husband 
love  is  a  steady  combustion,  not  a  confla- 
gration." 


356    ANDREW    THE   GLAD 

"What  do  you  call  a  love  that  has 
burned  constantly  for  between  ten  and  fif- 
teen years,  Major?"  asked  David  as  he 
smiled  into  the  keen  old  eyes  that  held  his. 

"That,"  answered  the  major,  "is  a  fire 
fit  to  light  an  altar,  sir." 

"And  in  my  heart,  ah,  Major,  can  you 
trust  me — to  keep — it  burning?"  said 
Phoebe,  thus  making  her  avowal  before 
them  all  with  gallant  voice  and  eyes  of  the 
dawn. 

Moments  later  after  Phoebe  and  Mrs. 
Buchanan  had  retired  down  the  hall,  and 
up  the  stairway,  Caroline  Darrah  still 
knelt  by  the  major's  chair.  They  were 
both  silent  and  the  major  held  her  hand  in 
his.  They  neither  of  them  heard  the  latch 
key  and  in  a  moment  Andrew  Sevier  stood 
across  the  firelight  from  them. 

"I  wanted  to  hear  it,  Major,"  he  en- 
treated as  he  laid  his  hand  on  Caroline's 
shoulder  when  she  came  to  his  side  and 


THE  MANY  WATERS      357 

held  out  his  other  to  the  major.  "Say  it,  if 
you  will,  sirl" 

"The  Almighty  bless  you,  boy,  and 
make  His  sun  to  shine  upon  you.  He  is 
doing  it  in  giving  you  Caroline  to  wife. 
Some  women  He  holds  as  hostages  until 
the  greater  men  in  us  can  rise  to  claim 
them  and  to-night  His  eyes  have  seen  your 
fulfilment."  The  major  looked  straight 
into  the  pain-ravaged  but  radiant  face  be- 
fore him  and  his  keen  old  eyes  glowed 
through  the  mist  that  spread  across  them. 

"Child,"  he  said  after  a  moment's  si- 
lence as  he  laid  his  hand  on  Caroline's 
other  shoulder,  "across  the  many  waters 
that  can  not  drown  love  you  have  brought 
back  to  my  old  age  young  Andrew  the 
Glad." 

THE  END 


A     000  1 30  540     8 


